


live like legends

by cl410



Series: Legacy [10]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Teen Wolf (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Also I'm fucking up the MCU timeline again, BAMF Darcy Lewis, BAMF Women, Canon-Typical Violence, DRAGONS GUYS, Darcy Lewis-centric, Fae Jane Foster, Found Family, Full Shift Werewolves, Full on fantasy world for Naomi's part, Jane Foster & Darcy Lewis Friendship, Magic Darcy Lewis, Powers Darcy, Some references to non-con, Spark Darcy Lewis, Spark Stiles Stilinski, but ya'll are used to that by now i'm sure, shit's crazy, very very brief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:15:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 173,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22625401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cl410/pseuds/cl410
Summary: Darcy and her family have spent the last three years building a future for the supernatural beings hidden from humanity. But Darcy has failed in her own goal to find other sparks that she believes exist, sparks who may be unaware of the dangers they face for the simple crime of existing. Her quest is stalled, though, when new troubles come to light: rogue vampires are attacking at will, risking the secrecy of all supernaturals, and the Fae realm is evolving once again.Soon, Darcy discovers an even greater problem- someone has been quietly assassinating magic users. Worst of all, the person responsible has been operating for years, undetected and killing at will. Finding those responsible for the assassinations becomes her number one priority.The more she learns, the quicker Darcy realizes that something bigger is at play here, something sinister and ruthless that has watched them from the shadows for years, threatening the very future they’ve worked so hard to secure. Revealing the threat, though, means dragging this killer and their leader into the light… and proving that sometimes the monsters we fear are the monsters we already know.
Relationships: Allison Argent/Lydia Martin, Brunnhilde | Valkyrie/Jane Foster/Thor, Chris Argent/Peter Hale, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Helen Cho/James "Rhodey" Rhodes, James "Bucky" Barnes/Darcy Lewis, Laura Hale/Original Male Character(s), Maria Hill/Natasha Romanov, Naomi Okoro (OC)/Vahid Tehrani (OC), Original Character(s)/Original Character(s), Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Sophia Reyes (OC)/Maya Ito (OC), Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson, Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes
Series: Legacy [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/996999
Comments: 299
Kudos: 238





	1. Naomi: Map, Characters, & Index

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I'm back!! You guys have been super patient, so thanks :)
> 
> Important notice: This fic will be split between Darcy and Naomi again, only this time Naomi's story will be set in the dragon realm- aka a full on brand new high fantasy world I spent like 8 months creating as I wrote Naomi's part. There were tears and frustration involved while developing it lol but overall it was super fun and I'm very happy with how it turned out. 
> 
> Also, HUGE thank you to jebbypal and fanaticreader16 especially for beta-ing Naomi's part. It was a massive project, considering its 80k+ words and involved ironing out tiny details for a new fantasy realm, and their help was invaluable. 
> 
> You may also notice I'm removing certain parts of the oneshots. This is either because I've completely changed things (re: Naomi) or will be incorporating some pieces of it into the new fic (re: Darcy)
> 
> I'll be posting weekly on Sundays, since I'm not finished with Darcy's part yet. But it's going fast, so don't worry! I'm giving myself plenty of time to keep to the update schedule. 
> 
> So, anyway. Here we go again! Chapter 1 will be up tomorrow :)

**Dragon Royal Family**

  * Sargon (deceased): Former Prime
  * Rosanna (deceased): Former Prime
  * Darius: Prime
  * Soraya: General
  * Kaveh: Commander in army
  * Rahim: Advisor to Prime, leads University system with Idri
  * Esteri: Social, dignitary, negotiations, etc



**Consuls (Dragon Advisors)**

  * Idri: High Sage & Soraya’s consort
  * Faraco 
  * Tahj
  * Radia



**Ruling Council of Mages**

  * High Mage Ziadie 
  * High Mage Natoya (previous, deceased) 



**Nakano Tribe**

  * Kanoa, Chief
  * Ailani, Second in Command



**Pirates**

  * Captain Linnea Segal: _The Revenant_
    * First Mate: Ceren, Wind Mage
  * Captain Casimir Vasilieos: _The Aurelia_
  * Captain Nailah Oyedeji: _The Hyperion_
  * Captain Arielle Harada: _The Raider_



**Humans, Shifters, & Other**

  * Sonia, Master Weaver
  * Noor, Canid Shifter
  * Atreya, Alpha of Canid Shifters
  * Avis, Fae 



**MAP**


	2. Darcy: State of Affairs

**1: STATE OF AFFAIRS**

**_Darcy_ **

Darcy’s frustration carried her down the halls of the Avengers compound in upstate New York, letting the heavy trod of her boots and the streaks of gold across her irises warn everyone away from her. Varied Avengers affiliates cleared the busy halls with a wince, supernaturals and baby SHIELD agents mixed among them. 

The decision to move the Avengers out of Stark tower had been an easy one. The decision to move her supernatural unit with them had not, Tony in particular vocal in his disagreements, much to her exasperation. They weren’t _living_ at the compound, for Thor’s sake, which meant she and the pack still split their downtime between the Iron Heights apartments and the tower. 

Besides, the Avengers and the supernatural units had grown far too large for even Stark Tower to host. And these days, they’d started sending small supernatural teams with varied Avengers on the occasional case, which meant extensive and _destructive_ cross-training was required. 

Tony had issues with change and things he cared about slipping away from him. News to none of them, but nonetheless still surprising with the vehemence of his opposition. 

Darcy got it. SHIELD had only ever wanted to suit, the tech, and never the man. And now the thing he’d spent years building in spite of them would be moving away to find room to grow- leaving him behind. 

Even though he owned and built the compound, the idiot, she thought fondly. Some of the sharp edges of her helpless anger faded at the thought of her ridiculous father and his inability to express his feelings, but she still opened the Supernatural Division Command doors with enough misplaced aggression to startle the techs inside.

“Sorry,” she muttered, insincere, and threw herself into an empty chair to type up a report on her trip.

Another failure. They were really starting to chafe. 

She glowered at the report, the cursor blinking in empty space beneath _Mission Outcome,_ not willing to write yet another admission of failure to be filed with all the others. 

Darcy glanced up at the sound of a familiar irritable voice. Stiles stomped into the room, scowling, with a morose group of werewolves on his heels. He looked tired, hair askew, eyes strained in a sure sign of a migraine, tension radiating off of him that lifted slightly when he caught sight of her. At least until she shook her head; Stiles blew out a loud breath and ran a hand through his hair. 

The werewolves abruptly dispersed at the sight of two angry sparks. Their self-preservation skills were admirable.

“You, too, huh?” Stiles said ruefully. He took a seat beside her, eyes flicking to the open monitor in front of his chair that displayed NYPD case files and reports- domestic, general disturbance, camera stills, anything that could potentially be a supernatural incident. 

Secrets were hard to keep in the age of technology. Darcy dreaded the day they were forced to bring the supernatural secret to light, but anyone with an ounce of common sense knew it was rapidly approaching. All they could do was stay ahead of it and do their best to manage the fallout. 

“Yeah,” she sighed, scrubbing her hands over her face. “Chased down a couple rumors in Honduras, came up with nothing. Again.” 

Three years after Hydra’s demise, after Jane and Darcy had defeated the Seelie Queen in the Fae realm. Three years of running down every possibility, ever whisper of another spark in the world, hoping and praying to find someone like them. 

Three years and nothing to show for it. 

“Well, if it helps, I also failed miserably,” Stiles said with a forced grin. “I connected to the nemeton and tried to help the ‘wolves do a full shift, and got a headache for my troubles.” 

Another reason for the move- the unclaimed nemeton in the territory. Darcy and Stiles hoped that, with it, they could start giving other werewolves the ability to shift fully. Again- no luck. They had to be missing some crucial detail, but even after hours debating the possibilities, hours of recalling the details of the Hales’ shift and trying to replicate it, they’d had no success in breaking through that strange block that held the wolves in their beta shifts. 

“Some leaders we are,” Darcy grumbled. 

“The problem,” he said, resting his head on the back of the chair and staring blindly at the ceiling, “is that we made everything look too easy.” 

“Nothing about our lives has been _too easy,”_ she said, appalled. “Are you nuts?” 

Stiles lifted his head, hands waving. “No, no, think about it.” He held up a hand, ticking off with his fingers. “Killed the notorious Kate Argent and her band of psychos, check. Retrieved a prisoner of the Seelie Queen in her own realm without even a scratch to show for it, check. Defeated the Alpha Pack and a group of hunters, check. Escaped the McAllisters and an Ak’ma, check. Fought and killed a Nogitsune, check.”

He switched to the other hand. “Aliens, all the time. Check. Tracked down and killed Gerard Argent, check. Closed a Hellmouth and offed the Unseelie Queen, check. Killed the Seelie Queen next, check. Squashed Hydra for good, check. And now I’m out of fingers, but you get the point.” 

“Every second of those were terrible. We _barely_ succeeded in most of those fights, Stiles.” 

He reached over to grab her hand, waiting until she looked at him to say, “And look where we are now, Darce. Look what we’ve built.” He tipped his head towards the busy halls visible through the bullet-proof glass of the doors. “Supernaturals from across the _globe_ coexisting, creating friendships and working together to build a better world for our kind.” 

“Then why can’t we find more sparks? They have to be out there somewhere. They _have_ to be.” She had to hold onto that hope, if nothing else. 

He sighed. “Fuck if I know, Darce. I don’t understand it anymore than you do. But it won’t be like this forever. Eventually, a new spark will show up, and we’ll give them all the support they need.” 

“Since when are you an optimist?” She asked, sniffling lightly. 

“I’m just trying to cheer you up, don’t get used to it.” He stood, still clutching her hand. “Now get up, let’s go burn off some of this anger.” He tugged insistently at her until she gave in, letting him pull her to her feet and to the training grounds. 

A handful of new SHIELD agents were being lectured by Maria Hill, sent by Coulson after a truly heartfelt plea to help him train these people. He was apparently too busy wrangling his new team to devote enough attention to it, and what better place to train agents than the highly secure Avengers compound? Not that any of them were ever left unsupervised- their trust only went so far. 

Darcy still resented him for the vanishing act he’d pulled on Natasha and Clint. Fuck orders, loyalty was more important. 

… Definitely for the best that she’d never been an agent of SHIELD. There were some issues with authority she’d never quite worked out. 

Stiles released her once they’d entered the training grounds, continuing past her and then spinning in place so that they faced each other, standing about ten feet apart. He bounced on his toes, rolling his shoulders in preparation as he tugged two pairs of handcuffs from his pocket and tossed one to her.

Maria promptly herded the agents out of the danger zone. Darcy waved her thanks- less collateral damage, with them out of the way. Things were about to get very violent.

“Ready?” Stiles asked, grinning for real this time. A small orange shape darted across his skin and vanished beneath his shirt sleeve. 

Darcy returned his excitement, shifting so that she was firmly anchored in place. “Are you?” 

He narrowed his eyes at her, probably aware of the way her magic surged to life beneath her skin since she could feel his do the same.

She struck, hard and fast. A bolt of lightning screamed across the distance between them, arching for him. 

Stiles deflected it with the slash of a hand, and the game was on. 

Magic met magic with a ferocity that should have torn the entire compound to pieces, had they not warded every inch of it. The training ground wards kept the power contained like a hurricane in a bottle, everyone on the outer edges fully aware of the chaos ongoing inside. 

They did this often, Darcy and Stiles, throwing everything they had against each other. Spark against spark, fighting to advance, to subdue the other’s magic long enough to close one of the cuffs around their wrist. Enough to choke off the other’s magic and declare themselves the victor. 

Most of the time there was no victor- they were too evenly matched. So they fought until they were too exhausted to continue, using clever tricks and raw blasts of power to keep each other alert. 

Darcy slipped sideways into a shadow, reappearing behind him, but Stiles was ready for her, shielding against her next strike with a breathless laugh. 

The world was a deafening rumble. Sparks clashed and sizzled violently, hissing like a steam vent whenever they remained in contact for too long. Stiles’s strike hit her shield with a boom that made her ears ring and sent her sprawling even as Stiles yelped and dove aside to dodge the backlash. 

Things dissolved after that. Hard to maintain a serious fight when you were both cackling like hyenas on the ground. 

“You almost fried yourself,” Darcy gasped through her laughter. 

Stiles grinned as he threw a handful of dirt at her, which promptly dispersed into a cloud with the half-hearted effort. “I knocked you on your ass, though, that counts for something.” 

“Not when you take yourself out in the same move,” she countered, grinning widely as she hauled herself into a sitting position. 

“Maybe I meant to do that,” he said, standing and swiping uselessly at the streaks of dirt on his pants. She arched a brow at him. “Okay, fine, I almost zapped myself into oblivion. Don’t tell anyone.” 

“Secret’s safe with me,” she lied. She rolled to her feet, stretching with a satisfied sigh. “Thanks, Stiles. I needed that.” 

“No problem.” He tossed an arm over her shoulders and led them back inside. 

~*~ 

Lydia barely glanced up when Darcy entered the space lab back in the tower later that afternoon, bearing a bag with take-out from Jane’s favorite restaurant. She paused with a frown when her search for the Unseelie Queen came up empty. 

“She’s still next door,” Lydia said, stiletto heels clicking ominously across the tiled floor as she crossed the room to inspect the pile of readouts that a weary printer spat out. 

Next door meant the Fae realm, the terminology coined shortly after Jane opened and anchored a permanent Fae gate inside her lab. 

Darcy scowled, clocked the half-empty bag of cheetos that had been on Jane’s desk for a solid week now. “We were supposed to meet here for dinner.” 

Lydia tossed aside the pages in her hand and snatched up the next printouts with a ferocious intensity. “You know how she’s been, since… Well.” The Seelie Queen flicked her eerie green eyes to Darcy, red-painted mouth twisted into a sympathetic grimace. “I don’t think she slept last night. I came in at four in the morning and she was already here.” 

Allison arrived, interrupting Darcy’s response. Which, to be fair, was just an impressive string of curses and exasperated muttering. 

“Hey, Darce.” Allison wrapped an arm around her briefly in passing; years of living with a werewolf pack had rubbed off on all of them, the humans now in the pack just as tactile and codependent as the ‘wolves. 

Allison had a quiver strapped to her back, a bow in her other hand and a series of assorted weapons hanging from her belt. She’d been training with the hunters under the Argent’s command, Darcy knew, and working with the Queens Guards for Jane and Lydia that operated in two groups, one for each realm. 

Darcy watched Allison greet Lydia with a kiss, armed to the teeth in defense of the red-headed banshee, their contrasts as fierce and complimentary as the love between them. She looked at them and saw how much they’d grown, what they’d become- a queen and her knight sharing an unbreakable bond. 

Which reminded her- Jane. 

“I guess I’m going to find her,” Darcy sighed. “Anything I should know first?” 

Lydia and Allison exchanged a look. “A few rogues stirring up trouble along the border,” Lydia admitted, lips pressing into a tight line. “Steer clear- I suspect it was a group of Unseelie.” 

Darcy sighed. Soon after Lydia had assumed her reign and both Queens declared the other an ally, factions of Fae against the alliance had cropped up, doing their best to sow disruption and chaos wherever possible. 

The Fae realm was wild and ever-changing, which made tracking these factions down extremely difficult. But Jane and Lydia each had set up a capital in their respective realms, providing stability for the Fae citizens recovering from centuries of trauma endured under the previous queens’ rule. A slow process, but an important one. 

“If Bucky texts, will you let him know I’ll be home in a couple hours?” Darcy asked, tossing her phone to Allison, who nodded. No use in bringing it to the Fae realm- no electronics worked once they crossed the Veil between worlds. 

Bucky was off with Steve and Sam, doing questionable things in the name of justice. Namely clearing out the latest AIM cell, a new and exciting network of terrorist arms dealers and scientists specializing in high tech weaponry with the ultimate goal to overthrow governments and take over the world, or something. Supervillain motives were hard to keep track of these days, but AIM was giving Tony fits.

She double checked the knife strapped to her thigh- some of those rogue Fae were the Ak’ma, demons bred specifically to hunt and kill sparks- slid the takeout bag onto her elbow, and then stepped through the Fae gate. She couldn’t stop the noise of discomfort as the Veil washed over her like an acid bath, stinging uncomfortably at her skin until she was through. 

The gate dumped her out near the border between the Seelie and Unseelie territories, close enough that she could look left and faintly see the Seelie Court’s towering white castle. Lydia was a pragmatist at heart, the new Seelie realm as sleek and fierce and beautiful as its Queen. 

But Jane… Jane was a _dreamer._ Her realm was full of breathtaking skies and untamed forests, of impossible creatures and inconceivable magic. An intersection of reality and imagination, a reflection of its queen’s mind and soul, her desire to build something lasting and meaningful. 

Though lasting didn’t necessarily mean permanent. Jane’s own palace was an ever-changing landscape that varied depending on the day, the weather, her mood, or any other random factor. 

Today it was merged into a dense, luxurious forest, its halls transformed into winding pathways flanked by thin trees with naked branches and bark a soft muted grey, offset by the fiery orange undergrowth that gave the impression that the trees- and the world itself- was upside down. The pathways arched and dipped, coiled around giant oaks and split into branches of its own, the terrain covered in velvety moss in colors Darcy swore she’d never seen back on earth but could never quite remember once she’d returned. 

It was a hallowed place, at once ethereal and monumental, a divine sanctum built by a Fae Queen unlike this realm had ever seen. 

It was also a royal pain in the ass for anyone trying to locate the throne room. Darcy stared at the split in the pathway before her. One way led up winding stairs carved expertly into a giant tree with tiny Fae lights floating in its leaves. Another climbed even higher to the living quarters, lovely arching tree houses scattered throughout the forest in the upper levels, the Fae leaping easily along the tangle of narrow paths. The third way was a horrible, rickety bridge over a turquoise creek that shone unnaturally bright in the dim light of the forest. 

Darcy considered the paths, then Jane’s state of mind. She finally heaved a morose sigh and reached for the thin fiber ropes that dangled above the shabby bridge. 

“If I fall in the radioactive creek and die,” she told a nearby Fae, who blinked curiously at her with perfectly round, fathomless eyes, “tell Jane I hate her.” 

The Fae’s eyes grew impossibly wider, a tiny and adorable creature with flakes of bark growing on its skin, and then they scampered ahead of her on the bridge with insulting ease. The Fae had small goat hooves that clacked with a cheerful rhythm on the wooden boards as it danced ahead of her. A satyr, then, with some dryad blood, too. 

She was getting better at identifying the countless races of the Fae. It helped that, for the most part, they’d stopped trying to kill her. 

Something splashed loudly in the shallow waters below, and she was abruptly reminded of the creatures in this realm that had no qualms about eating her. She hurried after the little Fae and resolved to not think about the multiple times she skidded on the abruptly- _suspiciously-_ slippery wood.

A metal gate marked the entrance to the throne room- not iron, _never_ iron- with intricate latticework that towered over them with a foreboding aura. 

“Oh, Jane,” Darcy sighed, shouldering the doors open with some effort and waving goodbye to the helpful Fae. Jane might as well have slapped a “Keep Out” sign on the gate and called it a day.

The moss path faded out to reveal smooth brown stones that guided her through the wide halls, moss diverting instead to creep up the rows of giant columns and cling to the sides. Large flat rocks were scattered haphazardly in the walkway with sweet-scented flora for decoration; there was a faint sound of running water somewhere ahead. 

Darcy turned a corner and finally found the throne, planted firmly in the center of rows of wide steps that split on either side of the giant seat with streams of fresh water coursing down them. 

The throne itself was an enormous, contorted tree with branches that erupted out of the open ceiling, sunlight filtering through the young leaves and shining brightly on the empty seat in the heart of the tangled roots. The back of the throne was made of limber saplings that arched in a wide fan above the shallow dip of the throne’s seat. Strands of small, embellished leaves dangled from long vines, interspersed with delicate buds that bloomed a deep cobalt and had tiny white flecks nestled in the center. Darcy called them Starbursts, to Jane’s eternal exasperation.

Six of the elected Queens Guard flanked the throne, their silver armor fitting like a second skin and glimmering faintly in the beams of sunlight spearing down from the aperture in the ceiling. Darker, gilded leaves adorned the shoulders, the neck and waist, providing both decoration and thicker armor. A split chainmail tunic reached their knees, cut to the waist to give them the necessary range of motion to fight off a rogue Unseelie Fae. 

Each of the Queens Guard bore a spear, a sword, and an unknown number of knives on their person. Four also carried longbows with a quiver full of iron-tipped arrows and had been thoroughly trained and tested by both Allison and Clint. 

The pack accepted only the best into the ranks of the Queens Guard, each member vetted and trained by no fewer than five pack members to weed out those with hidden motives or bad intentions. 

Darcy adjusted the bag of takeout on her arm and met the gaze of Malonne, the present ranking leader of the Unseelie Guard. He tipped his head helpfully to a small door tucked behind the throne, stained a dark bronze and left ajar. 

She stepped into the room and blinked in surprise- the Unseelie Court archives had grown again, Fae from across the realm unearthing hidden and half-destroyed records and books from the previous Queen’s reign of terror. She’d never thought anything could come close to Jane’s obsession with space and the stars, but the unknown of her home world had enthralled the new Fae Queen entirely. 

Then again, maybe she just wanted a distraction after her separation with Thor. 

Barely a year after they’d defeated the Seelie Queen and taken over the realm’s recovery entirely, Jane and Thor decided to take a break. Ruling their respective realms cost time and energy that they could no longer devote to each other.

Jane had made the final call, and Darcy knew her friend was struggling to adjust to the new loneliness without Thor at her side. 

Like Peter had told her so many years ago, sometimes love wasn’t enough. But Darcy still held out hope for a reconciliation once Asgard and the Fae Realm settled- assuming Thor ever returned. He’d been radio silent ever since the breakup and his return home, where he was presumably wrapped up in Asgard’s tumultuous political landscape. 

They all missed him. 

Jane had her nose buried in some ancient book, squinting at the author’s illegible scrawl and taking notes in handwriting that was equally terrible. She hadn’t heard Darcy come in, that much was obvious, so she took a moment to study the Unseelie Queen. 

Jane wore faded blue jeans and a ratty purple Culver sweatshirt that had to be at least a decade old. Her hair fell to her shoulders, hints of honey gold and amber streaked through the fawn brown. A delicate silver crown circled her head, dipping in a gentle V in the center of her forehead. 

Her features weren’t quite the same, here or back on earth. Jane had changed the realm and it’d changed her right back, the wild magic of the Fae bleeding into its Queen. 

Jane’s cheekbones were wider, the lines of her face harsher, her piercing eyes attentive in the same way that a hawk watched a mouse. Her delicate, fine-boned features were an odd blend of the human and Fae forms, as though her true form had begun to feed on the glamor of her human shape. 

Darcy knew that if she activated the rune on her arm, she’d find Jane’s true form to be both terrifying and exhilarating, with cosmic eyes and an unnatural shine to her body that looked as though she had stars sewn under her skin, magic bleeding off of her like scattered stardust. 

Jane was a supernova with human shape, constellations of freckles mapping out the dips and curves of her body, hair shimmering with the intensity of a burning star and flowing like magma over deceptively thin shoulders. 

Not even Fae glamor could contain the truth of Jane Foster, no matter how hard she tried to disguise it. 

Her sleeves were shoved impatiently to her elbows, lopsided even as they gradually slid back down to her wrists as she worked. Her shoes had been kicked into a heap under the table so she could tuck her legs beneath her and curl into the cushioned chair, lips chapped and several asteroid belts of ink across her cheeks from where she’d seemingly tried to repeatedly swipe her hair out of her face. 

Affection bubbled to the surface. Darcy had to suppress a fond grin as Jane muttered under her breath and scribbled something in her chicken scratch handwriting, still entirely unaware of Darcy’s presence. 

“Your situational awareness needs some work,” Darcy said, amused when Jane startled and dropped her pen. 

“I thought that’s what the Guard is for,” she said irritably, leaning precariously over the chair arm to chase after the wayward pen. Darcy beat her to it, handing it over before the chair tipped over entirely and sent the Queen sprawling across the carpet.

Jane noticed the take-out bag and winced, apologetic. “I forgot.” 

“Your honesty is appreciated,” Darcy said, dry as the Sahara. She poked the bag. “It’s cold now, but that’s what you get for making your delivery girl traipse through a different dimension to find you.” Her eyes narrowed when Jane made a face. “You will eat something other than stale Cheetos today, Jane, so help me god.” 

“You’re very bossy today,” Jane muttered, but reached obediently for the stacks of to-go boxes. Darcy waited patiently for the rest of her brain to catch up. Sure enough, Jane’s head came up a few seconds later and she blinked at Darcy. “Oh, your trip.” 

“Was a bust.” She sighed. “Naomi left us a list of the sparks she knew and their last known locations. Three years later and we haven’t found a single one of them. By the time we get to the towns and cities where another is rumored to be, they’ve vanished entirely.” 

Jane frowned. “Like they’re hiding from you?” 

“No. Like they never existed at all.” She rubbed at her face and then dragged over a chair, pausing briefly to eye a stack of books covered in suspicious stains that hummed ominously at her proximity. 

Jane waved a hand. “Fae magic tomes. Don’t touch, the last one melted when I tried to open it.” 

“Huh.” The dark puddle next to the tomes made more sense now. She cocked her head, disturbed at the viscous texture and coppery tang in the air. “Is that…” 

“Blood? I think so.” Jane sighed and crammed a handful of cold fries into her mouth. “There’s some weird shit in here, Darce. Some _weird_ shit.” 

“Speaking of weird shit, why’d you change the damn palace again? I got lost. I had to walk across a rope bridge. I almost fell into a radioactive creek. I enjoyed none of it, Jane.” 

“I listened to a lot of Hozier last week and it just happened, okay?” Jane said defensively. “Besides, I like it better than the last couple tries. It’s more natural, which is what I was going for. The dryads are ecstatic.” 

“Good for them,” she muttered, fishing through the bag for her own meal. Jane reluctantly set her book and notes aside to focus on her food, but Darcy saw the distracted little flick of eyes every so often, as though she couldn’t quite tear her attention away. That same look that often prefaced a thirty hour science bender without ever taking a breath for air- a spark of passion that burned through her in every waking moment. She’d never seen in it Jane for anything but her beloved science, until now. 

Jane noticed Darcy’s close attention and squirmed with a guilty expression, making a valiant attempt to pretend to be focused entirely on her. 

“What?” Darcy finally asked, exasperated. “What’s got you so fascinated?” 

Jane brightened. “I found some written history on the realm,” she said, waving a hand at the stacks of books behind her in the small library that hosted the archives. “It’s pretty insane, Darce. There’s so much that’s changed over the years here, and I can already see where human lore has developed some of their stories from documented Fae influence.” 

Darcy tried and failed to parse Jane’s notes on a nearby page. “Anything worth chasing down?” 

Jane tipped a shoulder in a half-shrug, but her face did something weird. “I… maybe some of the stuff Lydia sent me from my mother’s records. I need to confirm a few things before I do anything with the information, but there’s… There’s something here worth investigating.” 

She was thoughtful, not at all distressed, but the uncertain set to her mouth made Darcy’s focus sharpen. “Should I be worried?” She asked with light humor, but her eyes were serious. 

“Not yet,” Jane decided, smiling faintly in reassurance. “Some of it’s in their older languages, which means I’ll have to find someone to help translate.” 

“From the Seelie Court?” 

“Yeah. Unseelie language split about six centuries ago. At first they were just different dialects of the same language, but it evolved into separate ones entirely pretty quickly after the realms froze each other out.” She shrugged. “Things are sort of improving. Hard to get rid of centuries of hostility overnight.” 

“And you’re okay? You’re happy?” 

Jane shot her a look that said she wasn’t even remotely subtle. “I _told_ you, the breakup was mutual. I have a _realm_ to run, and Thor had to go back to Asgard to deal with his own.” 

“Yeah, yeah, he had nightmares about a fire demon, very scary,” Darcy said, waving a hand dismissively, blithe about Thor’s departure despite the ache in her chest. She missed her friend. 

Jane rolled her eyes. “If you mean the visions about the fire demon Surtur, who was foretold to bring about the end of Asgard, then yeah. It’s a reasonable threat, definitely worth looking into before his home planet explodes or something. Besides, he said his father’s messages sounded off. Which, with Loki around…” 

“Loki the homicidal maniac, you mean, the one who’s been bored as fuck being babysat by his mother for years?” 

“Yes, that one.” 

“Hmph.” Darcy slumped in her chair and glowered up at the tangle of vines creeping along the ceiling. Their flowers had honest-to-god gems bundled in the center, which in the Fae realm probably meant that upon closer inspection they’d sprout surprise fangs and swallow you whole like some sort of sparkly nightmare Venus flytrap, but the kind that ate _people._ This place was so stressful, why did anyone willingly live here? 

“Better health benefits,” Jane said absently, already back to her books. 

It was Darcy’s turn to roll her eyes. “Because your realm has _magic healers,_ that’s cheating.” 

Jane shrugged. “Fine, then because we're not a capitalistic society.” 

“Yeah, okay, that checks out.” She stood, stretched languorously, and then leaned precariously over a stack of books to smack a kiss to Jane’s cheek. “See ya later, your highness.” 

“Why,” Jane sighed, but it was fond. 

She parted with a final wave and trotted along the throne room halls, seeking the Fae gate glimmering in the corner of a room in the winding halls, marked by her own personal wards so she could locate it even if the palace grew great hairy legs and marched a thousand miles into the unknown. Which, knowing the bizarre happenings in this realm, was entirely possible. 

This particular gate dumped her across the street from the Iron Heights apartments where most of the pack lived. She grimaced upon arrival at the nauseating affects from the inter dimensional travel. They’d recently discovered that too much crossing between realms made the humans sick, something they not-so-affectionately called gate wash.

The werewolves could withstand it longer, as could magic-users, but crossing more than a handful of times a week would end up with them bedridden for days with flu-like symptoms, only plus spectacular hallucinations and, oddly, an overwhelming desire for taffy. 

She didn’t even _like_ taffy, and now she kept a stash in her pantry that made her wrinkle her nose every time she saw it. 

The dual-set wards at Iron Heights, her own and Stiles, buzzed when she stepped through the doors, along with faint feedback from Imani’s practice runes tied to the steady pulse of her numerous plants. 

Darcy glanced habitually at the sign posted between the druid’s door and the steps, which read _“Caution!!! Werewolves afraid of stairs!”_ with a pointy-eared stick figure leaping desperately away from the rows of teeth making up the staircase.

A result of the Hales’ apparent aversion to walking down the steps like _a_ _normal person for God’s sake what is wrong with you_ and instead jumping them in a single bound that almost always traumatized unsuspecting bystanders. Namely Imani, since her door was closest. 

She climbed the stairs, passing Laura and Santiago’s apartment, then Cora’s, the empty one used for guests or emergency visitors, Erica and Boyd’s, Stiles and Derek’s, and finally her own. She cracked a yawn as her door swung open with a push, the inner proximity wards flaring brightly as she rubbed her eyes and stumbled towards the shower. 

Erica and Boyd were in California, visiting Maya and Sophia so they could have time with Isobel, who was three years old and had everyone in her life wrapped around her finger. Laura had dragged Santiago back as well, both to parade her boyfriend around and also help Talia with training the multitude of ‘wolves on the west coast that came to them for help with control issues. Scott, Isaac, and Kira also helped ride herd on the unruly werewolves, and Jackson and Danny had moved back when Danny’s father broke his legs in a car accident and needed help. 

Which left Iron Heights quieter than it had been in years. But it wasn’t a bad quiet, not like the kind she was used to. Her world was growing, her pack and family expanding, branching out and building relationships, a community, with others like them.

Connecting packs and opening lines of communication between Alphas, solving disputes until everyone finally settled and dug roots, started realizing that the supernatural world needed this balance again. 

It wasn’t all perfect, of course. Some Alphas took offense at every little thing they could manage, such as the Hale pack’s numerous, non-traditional connections or Derek’s epic bitch face during negotiations. Some refused to play nice because they wanted to keep their iron-fisted control over the ‘wolves in their own pack, or even expand and force others to join. 

Or, perhaps worst of all, the ones who believed Darcy and Stiles were lying about whatever kept them from helping other ‘wolves shift, and then they had to repeatedly admit their own failure until the Alphas subsided. A frustrating experience, if not a humbling one. 

She had a text from Cora, who she was pretty sure was out with Natasha and Maria doing questionable things in the name of world security or something. Best not to ask questions with them involved. 

**Text from Baby Hale, 7:38pm:** dinner?

Darcy tugged her softest pair of sweatpants and one of Bucky’s shirts on, padding to the kitchen as she typed a response. _Took the mad scientist takeout earlier._

**Text from Baby Hale, 7:40pm:** ok, so? second dinner?

She glanced around the apartment, knowing that Bucky wasn’t due back for another day at least and the rest of the pack was scattered across the city or wrangling their respective charges. She shrugged to herself, not one to appreciate solitude, and went to reply only to find Cora had already sent a flurry of texts even as someone banged on the window.

 **Text from Baby Hale, 7:42pm:** too late

 **Text from Baby Hale, 7:42pm:** Birdbrain’s on your roof

 **Text from Baby Hale, 7:42pm:** he says he’s picking the movie but nat says no

Darcy had to bite down on a grin when she looked over to see Clint with his face smashed against the window, smearing his nose and open mouth along the glass until she snapped her fingers and broke the ward locks for him. It wouldn't do to encourage him.

He made a showy leap through the window, landed messily but somehow turned it into an impressive tumble, and promptly crashed head-first into the coffee table, knocking everything off of it with a resounding crash. 

There was a moment of silence while he lay stunned and she stared down at him in disbelief, and then he said, eloquently, “Ow.” 

“The Amazing Hawkeye, everyone,” Darcy monotoned. She helped him climb reluctantly to his feet. 

Clint rubbed at a bruised elbow with a wince, wearing a fine layer of dirt from her murdered plant that was now strewn pathetically across the rug. 

“You’re a carnie, a spy, _and_ a superhero, Barton,” Darcy said with infinite exasperation. “So explain to me why you can’t walk like a normal person?” 

“That’s confidential, Lewis,” he said, wide-eyed and solemn and completely full of it. He only grinned when she said so, leaning down to scoop the plant back into its pot. 

They examined the wilting little plant, all sad and droopy after it’d been flung across the room at high velocity. “Take it down to Imani,” Darcy ordered, “since you’re the one that tried to kill it.” 

He hung his head and obeyed, passing Cora, Natasha, and Maria in the doorway while Darcy nudged one of Tony’s souped-up cleaning bots awake to clear the mess. At least he hadn’t shattered any glass this time. 

Hazards of running with wolves and superheroes. 

Maria appeared at her side, picking up the stack of Isobel’s books with _If You Give a Mouse a Cookie_ on top. “Some heavy reading, Lewis?” 

“Shut up,” Darcy said on a laugh, snatching the books out of her hands and returning them to the shelf. Maria flipped the table upright again as Cora rummaged through Darcy’s kitchen. Natasha was making fun of Clint as they returned from taking the plant emergency to Imani, their voices echoing up the stairs, hers teasing and his indignant. 

“Why were you on the roof in the first place, Hawk Guy?” Darcy called. 

“Doing his vigilante thing,” Natasha said with a roll of her eyes. “And picking a fight with the mob.” 

“The _mob?”_

“Tracksuit Draculas,” he confirmed. Cora’s face did something hilarious at the name, expressing incredulity and judgement like only a Hale could. “What? They’re trying to buy my apartment building!” 

“Russian Mafia,” Natasha said with poorly concealed amusement, which probably meant she wanted Clint to know she was laughing at him. “We’re letting him handle it for now, along with his new sidekick.” 

“Kate’s not a _sidekick,_ she’s Hawkeye. We’re both Hawkeye." He cocked his head thoughtfully. "Two Hawkeyes. Hawkeye… squared.” 

“Did you hit your head when you fell?” Darcy demanded. 

He rubbed a hand through his blond hair, ruffling it more than it already was. “Maybe a little.” 

She sighed and grabbed a pen. “Get over here.” Healing his bumps and bruises kept him distracted while Natasha perused her movie collection and Maria and Cora ate like they’d been starved for weeks. 

“When is Barnes back?” Cora asked with her mouth full like a heathen. 

“Tomorrow or Thursday,” Darcy answered, glancing at Maria for confirmation. 

Maria tipped her head. “Last I heard, too. But who knows, with Steve running point.” 

“Bucky’s good at wrangling him,” Darcy said with a grin. She’d lost count of the many shouted lectures she’d been privy to, Bucky bawling out a belligerent Steve for his latest stupid risk. 

“Speaking of wrangling.” Cora leaned sideways to peer at the sound of a rising argument from Natasha and Clint over the movie. “Might want to break that up before Nat undoes all your hard work, Darce.” 

“Oh, for-” Darcy stalked over and steeled herself, knowing that it would take all of her professional mediating experience to break up the argument before it got violent and her apartment suffered for it. _Again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own any of the MCU or Teen Wolf characters, of course, though I DO own all of the OCs and everything in Naomi's chapters :) 
> 
> Naomi's first chapter will be up next week! Thanks for reading :)


	3. Naomi: The Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early update for Valentine's Day because I love you guys
> 
> Btw: Naomi's story starts immediately after she & Vahid cross through the portal to the dragon realm. Eventually their story will catch up to Darcy's timeline though (or close-ish to it anyway)

**2: THE FALL**

**_Naomi_ **

Naomi’s first emotion in the dragon world was astonished wonder for the clean, crisp air that filled her lungs and the bright warm sun- _suns?-_ resting in a cloudless sky. 

Her second was amazement for the colossal city floating high above them, for the nearby roar of blue-green water falling over a steep cliff with no apparent end in sight. 

Her third emotion was pure, gut-wrenching fear. 

Vahid flew straight and steady once they were through the portal, beginning a slow ascent to the city where dragons flocked. They couldn’t see much from below, only the belly of the great white rock that held the floating city aloft and the faint but unmistakable shape of dragons high above. 

And then, only ten seconds into the new world, a massive bolt exploded out of the heavy fall of water and slammed into Vahid’s wing with a brutal crunch. He roared in pain, the sound so loud it seemed to Naomi that the whole world shook, and the wing crumpled. 

They hurtled towards the ground, blood streaming from the wound, Vahid unable to hold himself in the air with just one functioning wing. 

Naomi’s stomach swooped straight to her throat with a violent lurch as her heart tried to beat right out of her chest. But she stayed calm, ignored the shaking of her hands, and let her spark cradle Vahid’s heavy body. 

The force of his weight and speed meeting her spark made her head go light, her breaths come in shallow pants, dizziness making her sway in her seat. Vahid made a low, panicked sound when she nearly fell and twisted painfully in the air as they barreled further and further into the unknown, jerking his injured shoulder so she was thrown back onto him. 

Naomi caught the spike in front of her and gritted her teeth so hard her jaw ached in protest. Her body screamed at the strain of holding the dragon, slowing their descent as best she could. A few ribbons of her magic soared over his injured wing, pooling around the dragonglass bolt to hold it steady. Gods only knew the kind of damage it could cause otherwise when they hit.

Fractured, she thought faintly. It looked as though the bolt had caught him right on the joint. She glanced around, still struggling to draw breath, hardly able to think past the riot of fear and panic in her chest.

They were still falling, the world growing darker as they passed through what appeared to be a deep canyon of some sort, that same white rock visible in flashes through the heavy rush of the waterfall to their right. The city was but a speck in the sky now, the light fading rapidly the further they fell.

Vahid was quiet now. He was conscious, she could tell, not yet limp but so horribly still that the dragonglass must already be affecting him. She tried not to worry about it, told herself to get them through the next few minutes alive and then help him. 

Finally, _finally,_ the end came into sight. 

She braced herself and tried to slow them once more. Her magic settled beneath Vahid’s body and she _lifted,_ using every bit of her spark to slow their descent in one last ditch effort. 

And still, despite her efforts to slow their fall, Vahid slammed into the ground with a boom that echoed for an eerily long time through winding trees and tall white walls. 

Naomi was thrown clear, landing hard on the grassy earth. She gasped, the air knocked clean from her lungs as her vision grew dangerously black. It cleared after a long, terrible moment. Ignoring the pain, she rolled to her knees and crawled towards Vahid’s unmoving form. 

“Vahid,” she croaked. Her hand came up against warm, hard scales. 

No response. _“Vahid.”_ She used his bulk to drag herself to her feet, moving as fast as she could for the wounded wing. Blood soaked the ground around them, pumping steadily from his wing. She swore, low and vicious, and ripped a strip from her shirt to wrap around her hand. 

The dragonglass still burned through the material, but it was manageable. She could deal with it long enough, she told herself, wincing as the bolt slid through the tender membrane of Vahid’s wing. 

She realized with horror that the bolt had rows and rows of tiny, alternating spikes along the body of it. They were caught in Vahid’s wing and tearing the delicate membrane to shreds around the wound. 

Naomi was overwhelmed for a long moment. No matter which way she tried to pull it, the bolt would tear the rest of his wing apart. “Okay,” she whispered, grateful that Vahid was unconscious. “Okay, we’re going to have to…” 

She considered covering the bolt with her spark to slide it out, but that didn’t solve the problem of the fletching and barbed point on either end. 

Naomi tasted blood, realized she had bitten deep into her lip in her frantic worry. She spat out a mouthful of blood and reassessed. 

“Shatter it,” she decided finally, heart pounding. Fuck, this was such a risk. Could she even shatter a weapon like this? Which was stronger, spark or dragon-made weapons? She considered for a long pause.

“Me,” she muttered finally, an edge of desperation in her voice. “I’m stronger, because fuck you.” She _had_ to be, or else Vahid would die.

She glanced around nervously. Whoever had shot them out of the sky could be closing in, which meant she didn’t have much time. The air was still and quiet- _too_ still and quiet, now that she thought about it. No animals chirping, no breeze, no leaves rustling. Only the dull, steady roar of the waterfall a hundred yards from the bleeding dragon. 

Less time than she’d thought, then.

Naomi’s eyes burned gold as her spark erupted, spreading out over Vahid’s still form to hold him steady and wrapping gingerly around the delicate, shredded membrane of his wound. The shield extended to her, too, just after she noted with a spike of fear that Vahid’s temperature was dropping fast. 

She took a deep breath and wrapped her hands around the burning cold of the dragonglass. It _hurt,_ latching onto her magic and digging in until she wanted to scream. The runes on her thigh shifted, glowed, and she funneled her magic through the deadly marks as fast as she dared. 

Nothing happened. 

Naomi snarled under her breath and gave more, blinking back desperate tears. Her spark surged in response with a wildness she hadn’t experienced since the magic first developed, an edge of fervor that threatened to usurp her control. She swore to herself and used the bird tattooed on her back to reel in the stray threads of magic attempting to crackle outwards, an anchor for the rioting magic. 

The dragonglass, black as an abyss with veins of color pooling within it like an oil spill, heated in her hands. The bolt was wide enough that she had both hands wrapped around it without her fingers touching, thick and solid and- 

_Cracking,_ she realized with a jolt. It was cracking apart under her grip, crumbling away from the raging wildfire of her own magic. The bolt dissolved, falling harmlessly to the ground and leaving Vahid with a gaping wound. She let her magic press briefly against the wound, felt the spark jump-start his healing process before she quickly pulled it back lest his own magic latch onto hers and drain it. 

Triumph was short-lived. 

A flare from her spark was all the warning she had before another bolt exploded out of the wall of water only a hundred feet away, endless amounts of water falling beyond the ground they’d landed on. 

She whirled with a snarl of fury, slashing a hand through the air to send a shield roaring to life before them. The bolt shattered against her wall of power, dragonglass unable to withstand the angry fire of her spark. 

It drifted to the ground in a pile of obsidian ash that left acrid smoke wafting through the air. She waited, heart pounding, for the next shot.

But nothing came.

All was quiet, so unnaturally still that she knew the unseen enemy as studying her now to find a chink in her armor. 

She let them look. They wouldn’t find a weakness to exploit. 

Naomi looked around, wary. To their left, the wall of water roared past, falling further still. She didn’t risk approaching the edge of the small cliff, not wanting to get any closer to whoever was shooting at them from behind the waterfall. To the right was a wall of solid white rock that stretched further than she could see in either direction. 

And far beneath them was a sprawling forest, trees groaning as they shifted in place, trunks varying from tiny and grey-black to enormous white trees that made Vahid’s dragon form look small. Thick foliage disguised any movement in the underbrush, unfamiliar plants with bizarre shapes and colors blanketing the ground. 

They were on some sort of ledge, Naomi realized. She looked up, squinted to see the faint hints of sunlight impossibly high above. The familiar white rock jutted out from the water a hundred feet up, interrupting the flow of water and guiding it in two heavy channels on either side of the ledge. 

She wondered where the water stopped. 

Vahid groaned behind her. She whirled, running for him, and caught him around the waist as he shifted, staggered, and nearly fell. He was covered in blood, face pale and strength drained from the dragonglass. 

“Vahid,” she said, breathless. “Thank god. Are you okay?” 

“Are you?” He squinted at her worriedly through a haze of pain. He clutched his arm to his stomach and flexed his shoulders with a grimace, curling defensively against phantom pain from his other form. 

“I asked you first,” she said automatically, then winced. Not the time to be combative. “Yes, sorry, I’m fine. But your wing-” 

“It will heal,” he assured her weakly. “Best that I don’t strain it at the moment, though. Where are we?” 

“I don’t know. We fell. Far.” She swallowed and looked around. “Whatever shot at us, it’s behind the waterfall. Both shots came from somewhere behind the water, both above and down here.” Which meant what? That there was some sort of pathway? Or two separate attacks in two separate places? 

“Both shots?” 

She nodded absently, distracted by an odd buzzing sound in her ears. “Two bolts of pure dragonglass.” Vahid looked around, searching for the bolts, so she explained, “I broke them.” 

There was a pause. 

“You… broke them?” He repeated, staring at her with open disbelief. 

“Well, technically I guess I burned them to ash.” 

“That... should not be possible.” 

She debated sharing her magic’s oddly ferocious responses but reconsidered at the lines of pain etched onto his face. “Well, I did it, so I guess it’s possible after all.” The buzzing was a low, quiet hum in her ears, but she disregarded it when Vahid coughed.

“No, نگهبان, dragonglass is created from _dragon fire._ The hottest fire in the world, _any_ world. Not even a spark should be able to destroy it.” 

“Obviously that isn’t true anymore,” she said impatiently. “Vahid, can we focus on the important thing here? You’re hurt. Your wing was-” 

“Damaged,” he agreed. “But I have suffered worse without permanent damage.” He grimaced, leaning a little heavier against her. “Though I will take some time to heal from the severity of the wound, both physical and magical. It was a very well-placed shot.” 

He stiffened suddenly, straightening with an abrupt motion that made blood drain out of his face from the pull on his injury. “We are being watched,” he said evenly, but his silver eyes revealed the rage buried beneath that impenetrable mask. 

“I know.” Naomi took a careful breath. “They haven’t tried to shoot again.” Likely because of the angry golden steam rising from her skin and the faint hint of raw energy in the air that promised a violent response to provocation. 

The rushing water provided enough cover for the attacker that she couldn’t pinpoint their location- otherwise they’d be ash, too. 

Even as she thought it, though, a tall figure with broad shoulders and tan skin stepped through the wall of water. He carried a lethal-looking spear tipped with dragonglass and had an array of other weapons strapped to his body. 

Water slicked off of the man’s loose clothing, leaving him dry except for the dark hair tied at the base of his neck. White paint ran in two lines down his forehead and from lips to chin, the skin below his eyes marked with a pattern of small painted dots. When he blinked his eyelids showed vibrant red coloring that bled down over high cheekbones and into the hollows of his face to create a menacing mask. 

Hard eyes watched them with blatant mistrust. He barked a command at them in an unfamiliar language and Naomi had a moment to think, _Shit, we didn’t consider fucking language barriers,_ before the waterfall parted again and a woman appeared. 

Like the man, she wore clothing with muted colors that the water slid off with ease. She wore her dark red hair piled on top of her head, which made her already impressive height even more so, and bore similar painted markings on her face and neck. Her body was solid muscle with a thick waist, broad shoulders and sculpted biceps and thighs that spoke of strength earned from a life of hard fighting. 

The sheer physicality of her was as alluring as it was intimidating. Naomi swallowed when she growled something at them in that strange language, green eyes narrowing dangerously when they didn’t respond. 

Vahid cocked his head. “We are unfamiliar with your tongue,” he called. The pair only stared at him in suspicious confusion, so he tried again in the language he’d first spoken to her- Old Persian, from the empire rising as dragons left the earth behind. 

The man’s face did something hilarious, twisting in surprise and distaste as though Vahid had just committed some cultural faux-pas. But the confusion overruled anything else, and they traded a few biting sentences until finally Vahid quietly told her, “Their use of my language is very odd.” 

She’d been battling her own frustration at not understanding _either_ of them. “What did he say? Can you understand him?” 

“Yes, mostly. I believe they want to know how you stopped the bolts.” 

“Well, I want to know why they shot you.” Anger made her voice sharp. She glanced over, saw the strangers watching them with open mistrust. 

“He said we were trespassing past dragonkin boundaries.” Vahid frowned. “Into Nakano territory.” 

Naomi barely resisted the urge to groan aloud. “We flew straight into a territory battle?” 

Vahid spoke to the pair again and listened carefully to their response. “Nova Solis- that’s the flying city- belongs to dragons and their kin. The earth belongs to other Beings- which is what they call supernaturals, I gather from context.” He made an uncertain face. “I think.” 

“Can you tell them we crossed by accident?” She asked hopefully. “And that we’d like to leave?” 

He shifted slightly against her as he relayed the question, trying to hide the weakness tugging relentlessly at him. Whatever they said in response, though, had him stifling a threatening growl. She heard it rumble deep in his chest and prepared herself for bad news. 

“They are not fond of dragons,” he said tightly, “so _I_ am welcome to leave. But they are very interested in you, Naomi, and they don’t want to let you go.” 

As he spoke other people drifted through the waterfall, all armed and watching her with wide, wary eyes. Warriors, she saw, fighters with the kind of hard edge that came from desperation, not cruelty. And all of them watched her with something like awe. 

Naomi felt uneasy under their close inspection. “Let me guess, sparks aren’t common here either.” 

“They saw you shatter the dragonglass. You hold great value because of that ability- either that or you pose a great threat? I’m not certain- the phrasing is unfamiliar to me, as is the word they used. I have a feeling it could go either way.” 

The woman spoke again, dislike clear in her voice. Vahid’s response was firm and unaffected even when their weapons raised in response. 

“What’s wrong?” She’d heard a word that had been repeated a few times by the woman and had a feeling from both Vahid’s reaction and the way the woman spat it out like a bad taste that the word meant dragon. 

“They want to take you back to their clan. I told them that I would not let you be taken from me without a fight.” The woman watched Naomi with intense, unreadable eyes, her grip on the spear tightening until the wood creaked in protest. 

The man spoke quietly, but Naomi still caught the Old Persian word for Sentinel. Vahid had used the title with her earlier, she remembered, and apparently it still meant something after centuries of language evolution because the woman looked shocked. 

Naomi took stock of the situation, studied the warriors and tried to calculate their odds. Not great, with Vahid’s injury and her magic still recovering from the fall and shattering the bolts. But she’d faced worse odds and walked away the victor. Desperation was a strong motivator. 

She tightened her grip on Vahid when he made a low noise of pain, ducking down to peer in his eyes. “What is it?” 

He smiled softly at her, politely ignoring the men and women inching closer to them with hostility in their eyes when they looked at him. “My system is breaking down the remaining effects of the dragonglass, my love, do not worry.” 

Naomi cut a dangerous look at one of the men when they ventured too close. He backed away hurriedly at the gold fire in her eyes. 

“What’s the plan?” She asked lowly. “Should I try to get us clear?” She didn’t want to, didn’t want to hurt the people watching her with something terribly like hope in their eyes, but Vahid’s safety was her priority. 

He took in the group and quietly told her, “Do not harm them. I can forgive the wound, as it seems there is a great deal we do not understand going on here.” And she was reminded, again, about Vahid’s core of decency, unlike anything she’d ever known. 

It was part of why she loved him, after all. 

“You think we should agree to go with them?” She asked Vahid softly. He made a noise low of consideration, likely thinking of their precarious position. He was unable to fly them to safety, they were outnumbered by far, stranded together in a foreign world. They didn’t know what was safe to eat, what kind of predators existed here, who else might be nearby looking for a fight. 

“I do,” he said with some hesitation. “But if they try to take you-” 

“Then we’ll make them regret it,” she said evenly. “Same goes if they try to hurt you again.” She waited patiently while Vahid relayed their offer, let her eyes bleed gold and angry to encourage a peaceful resolution. Instead, it just prompted astonished gasps and quiet mutterings. 

“They agree to our terms,” Vahid said. “And that we must leave now, before the second sun sets. There are… monsters? Creatures? I’m not sure, just that it makes them nervous.” She could see that for herself in the tension in the fighters, the careful and frequent examination of their surroundings, a wariness born from lethal predators. 

But it was the raw fear in their eyes when they glanced down into the forest below that sent chills down her spine. 

The woman- one of their leaders, she could see by the way the others deferred to her- gestured with her spear for them to follow her to the waterfall. 

“Our stuff-” Naomi cut off as a few of the fighters slung her and Vahid’s scattered bags over thick, tattooed shoulders. She helped Vahid limp forward, knowing their bags were thoroughly protected by the rune locks she’d sewn into the material. 

Cool water battered their heads and shoulders as they passed beneath the waterfall. Four, five steps and they were clear of the rushing water, and then Naomi stuttered to a halt, open amazement on her face.

The white rock walls behind the waterfall had been carved, chipped away to build an entire city within the rock surface. Massive columns spiraled down from hundred foot ceilings, opening into a great hall that stretched for miles, far beyond her sight. It was a sprawling city, lit by mirrors that parted the water and sent the reflected sunlight from above streaming into the dark halls. 

But it was empty, their footsteps the only noise in the great city. Hushed, every sound echoing for miles, the abandoned halls felt like a sinister omen. 

Naomi noticed a giant mounted crossbow where one mirror sat hidden within the water, providing a direct line of sight from where the second bolt had come. One question answered, then, she thought with a scowl. 

They walked for miles, the city’s halls winding slowly downwards until they passed again through a wall of water and abruptly found themselves in the thick forest. She noticed the way the shadows within the forest were deeper, darker than she’d ever witnessed, as though something moved, _beckoned_ within.

Naomi glanced up once to see the ledge high above, jutting from what she now knew to be the hidden city walls. Lucky, that they’d landed there instead of falling straight past it to their deaths.

The glance showed her more, though, and she saw that the deep cavern they’d fallen into was a hollowed-out piece of land- possibly even where Nova Solis had once rested, assuming it hadn’t been flying forever. Miles of land scooped straight out of the earth, hovering proudly with the clouds and leaving a gaping wound behind, as though some primordial god had scooped the city out of the ground and raised it to the sky. 

Their group stepped warily through lush forests, past running water and strange little animals that darted out of sight before she could see anything other than unnaturally colorful markings and coats. They were being watched, she realized soon after, glancing up in time to see glowing eyes following them from thick treetops before they vanished in a blink. 

Vahid tensed against her. She looked up and sucked in a breath at the sight of the open maw of a creature’s skull, so large it had to have been nearly twice Vahid’s size when he was shifted. 

It was an entrance, Naomi realized, the base of the skull providing a smaller opening that led into darkness. It rested between two clefts of white rock within the tangle of trees, a morbid gateway to whatever lay beyond. 

The woman stepped confidently through the jaws, unconcerned with the abyss beyond. Naomi hesitated, but before she could voice her concerns a roar shook the trees. 

The unit instantly turned in place, spears and swords held at the ready with the kind of immediate response that spoke of frequent practice. Their dragonglass weapons glinted oddly in the dim light, the second sun miles above tinting the world an ominous red even this far beneath the surface. 

The water reflected much of it, Naomi had noticed, and she thought back to the reflective mirrors from the city. No doubt they were used farther down as well, providing more light than they’d get otherwise. 

Which just meant that she was able to see the monster that ripped trees apart to reach their group, shredding thirty foot tree trunks as if they were made of paper machè instead of solid wood. 

It stood ten feet tall at the shoulder and looked like an irradiated bear, if a bear had massive lupine jaws and three-foot claws that ripped through trees with a single swipe. 

Its hide was a deep red-brown, the color of old rust and dried blood. Rather than fur it had a thick, rough hide that looked impossible to pierce no matter how impressive your weapon. But it’s eyes were the worst- solid black that stretched across the entire eye and a thin sliver of white that appeared to be the pupil, slitted like a cat’s, that sliced through an abyss. 

Their captor snapped an order in the unfamiliar language, but the grim slant of her mouth told Naomi everything she needed to know. 

“We can help.” She eyed the beast as it breathed in angry heaves, scenting the air. 

Vahid relayed the offer, then told her, “They say a Behemot can kill a grounded dragon. It hunts in utter darkness, hence the eyes, which is why it only ventures out of hiding at night. Only the hungriest will hunt during the second sun’s pass.” 

Naomi cocked her head. “So… light hurts them?” Vahid nodded in confirmation, the hint of a smile playing across his face. These people truly had no idea what she was capable of. 

“They hunt based off of scent alone during the second sun’s pass,” he said after a terse exchange with a nearby fighter. They both ignored the desperate attempts to herd them towards the back of the skull. 

“Alright, I can solve one problem then. Tell them I’ll blind it.” He did, only for them both to receive skeptical glances in return. 

Impatient now, Naomi pivoted to face the Behemot and set the forest alight with her magic, sending it spinning towards the Behemot and around its head in a dizzying swirl of light. She heard gasps from the humans at the first rays of light from her spark.

The monster snarled and scrambled back, shaking its head wildly and clawing at its eyes in pain. It slammed sideways into a tree that promptly toppled with a loud crack.

A man threw his spear with enough force that the dragonglass tip sank deep into its neck. Viscous black blood spurted out of the wound- he’d hit an artery. Naomi wrapped her magic around its legs and tangled them. It toppled to the ground, bellowing in rage as two more spears struck home in its neck. 

But a fourth and final spear cut off the roar. The ensuing silence was heavy, pressing. None of the fighters moved to flee, just watched the forest with wary, waiting eyes.

It wasn’t until the first sounds of life returned to the forest that they finally relaxed. The red-haired woman studied Naomi with unreadable green eyes, the paint on her face eerie in the now dim lighting. But when she spoke, Naomi heard the first hint of grudging respect in her tone. 

Vahid translated. “She says that is the fastest anyone has ever killed a Behemot in her clan, and the only time anyone has escaped without injury.” He listened to the woman speak again, then added, “She says that she is Ailani, second of the Nakano Clan. We have her thanks.” 

A clan that respected and valued fighters, Naomi mused. She could work with this. “Tell her it was a show of appreciation for not trying to kill us a _third_ time earlier.” 

Vahid looked uncertain at expressing the sentiment, but Ailani barked a surprised laugh at her words. Then she beckoned for them to follow through the skull, humor softening the severe lines of her face. 

Naomi exchanged a look with Vahid and followed. She glanced up when they passed through the skull, awed by the sheer colossal size of the bones, the seemingly endless line of its vertebrae held in place above their heads by tangled tree limbs and vines. Its ribcage was so vast that she could only see hints of it to either side, brief flashes of towering ivory in the fading light. 

Vahid murmured quietly to Ailani. “A sea creature from the depths of the waters above,” he informed Naomi a moment later. “One misfortunate enough to fall from the ocean’s end and land here centuries ago when the flying city was created.” 

She made a note to leave the depths of their oceans unexplored- this thing could have swallowed a dragon in three bites. 

Ailani beckoned once more, and they followed her into the depths of the forest. 

~*~ 

The Nakano Clan led them deep into the heart of the forest, hidden so thoroughly that they would never have discovered it alone. 

As the forest thinned, they came upon a winding river that had water so clear she could see straight to the bottom. Glimmers of scales flashed by, hinting at shimmering creatures within left indiscernible in the darkness. 

Naomi listened to the faint splashes, tasted the damp air as they followed the river into a tall cavern with cave walls that reverberated eerily with every faint noise. Vahid’s cat eyes could see easily, but she was left to rely on a handful of her spark to light the way. 

She kept it small and muted after a sharp warning noise from Ailani. Finally the suffocating walls opened up, widened as they trekked along the dark stone path that fed to the city. 

Naomi stuttered to a halt at the sight before her.

The river slid lazily by, drifting along dark rock as thin trickling waterfalls fell past the cavern walls and over the trail carved into the walls. A city was sculpted into the walls ahead, buildings that sprawled for miles with a few large central dwellings that seemed to be the heart of the city, which was lit by massive lanterns of blazing fire that shone like a halo of beacons and cast the city in a warm, inviting glow. And above it all, watching the city from its towering height, was a white stone statue of a woman with her arms outstretched, a serene expression on her face. 

“The Goddess Nalani of Quiet Skies,” Vahid translated when Ailani noticed her awestruck face. “She is a defender of peace, they say. Peace and empty skies.” 

The rest of the city’s inhabitants stopped to watch their progress, a few calling out questions in their unfamiliar language that seemed to be neatly deflected from what Naomi could tell. Vahid listened with a furrowed brow, also unable to discern anything familiar from the clan’s common tongue. 

Two of the warriors darted off at Ailani’s command and disappeared in the streets. Naomi kept half her attention on the diverse people watching her with unconcealed curiosity and mistrust and the other soaking in the colorful tableau of homes painted vibrant colors, the foreign material of their clothing, the smell of something cooking that made her mouth water. The people had tattooed skin, most wearing thick braids with small beads woven into their hair. Others had shorn scalps, total or partial, likely in deference to the surprisingly warm, humid temperature. 

Finally, they came to the largest dwelling in the center of the city. A short exchange with the guards later and they were being led through thick doors inlaid with shards of dragonglass that glittered in the rays of light filtering down through mirrored walls. 

Inside appeared to be a throne room of sorts, a unit of guards standing at attention before to the seat built from pieces of bone at the end of the hall. The same splashes of color from the city were echoed here, but the difference emphasized in deeper, regal shades

The man seated in the throne radiated intensity so tangible that he drew all of the focus of the room. 

Ailani came to a halt at the foot of the throne and bowed, one fist clasped across her chest. Naomi listened to her lengthy explanation, trying to catch patterns in the speech that would help her learn their language. She was a polyglot who could pick up languages with a speed and accuracy that had stunned her parents when she was young. It would undoubtedly be useful here. 

As Ailani spoke, the leader- for this was undoubtedly the leader of the Nakano Clan- watched Naomi and Vahid with an unreadable expression. Naomi caught that word again, the Old Persian word for Sentinel that made the leader’s focus sharpen.

She studied him right back, taking in his wide shoulders and lean frame, the impassive dark eyes and black hair pulled into thick braids along his scalp. He wore loose but fine clothing, bearing weapons along a leather belt and obsidian rings on his fingers. Bracers made of connected vertebrae from some native creature encircled his arms from wrist to elbow, fierce against his muscled arms.

Vahid stayed silent, just watched them with steady silver eyes.

Ailani finished, waiting patiently for the leader’s response. He twisted his rings around as he considered her words, gaze set on Vahid for a long moment before settling on Naomi’s face. She kept her expression neutral, acutely aware that they were surrounded by dragonglass weapons that could cripple Vahid. 

At the thought, she reached out and tangled her fingers with Vahid’s. He shot her a quick, affectionate smile, and she made careful note of the deep lines of pain around his mouth. He needed to rest, especially after trekking for hours through an unfamiliar landscape with a deep magical wound. 

The leader spoke, his voice a smooth tenor. Ailani translated, and Vahid again for Naomi. “They would like to know if you are truly نگهبان.” 

She met his eyes and they had a brief, wordless conversation about the risks of confirming her power. Finally, Naomi nodded to Ailani and the chief. They waited as the leader considered them for a prolonged moment. Naomi’s nerves felt scraped raw from all the tension and waiting and uncertainty. 

But the chief’s answer had some of the tension fading from the waiting warriors around them, and Ailani said, “Chief Kanoa welcomes you as guests of the Nakano Clan. He invites you to rest now and join him for dinner tonight.” 

Vahid translated for Naomi and read her answer in the squeeze of her fingers around his, accepting their offer and murmuring the translation to her: “We thank him for his hospitality and accept the invitation.” 

A nod from Kanoa and they were dismissed. Ailani led them to a small blue house near the central dwelling, leaving two guards posted on the door before leaving after a brief conversation with Vahid. 

“They will retrieve us for dinner,” he said tiredly, sinking into a wooden chair. She crouched in front of him, placing a hand on his chest worriedly. 

“You need to rest,” she murmured, shooting a brief glance over her shoulder to where the guards waited outside. 

He noticed her wariness and sighed. “I gather they are not fond of dragons. The guards are for me more than you.” 

“I’m having trouble getting a read on their feelings about sparks,” she admitted. Either way, though, once Vahid’s wing was healed they would be on more equal fighting terms with these humans, so she tabled that concern for later.

“Not sparks,” Vahid corrected. “نگهبان.” 

Naomi rolled her eyes, fond. “Whatever.” 

She abandoned investigating the small house for now when Vahid flagged and, after a short search of the tidy rooms, helped him to the small but clean bedroom. He was asleep almost instantly upon laying down. She rested a hand on his forehead, frowning at the unusually cool temperature of his skin before leaving him to sleep.

Her own hopes of rest evaporated soon enough. She was too wired to sleep, paranoid and anxious in this strange world with its hostile people. Though it _had_ started from a misunderstanding, she conceded. 

There were politics at play here of which she and Vahid had no knowledge, and that was a very dangerous position to be in. 

Maybe they’d been naive, flying through that portal with no idea of what waited for them on the other side. Believing that between the two of them, dragon and spark, they could handle any threat they faced. 

In hindsight, she maybe had a few regrets. Because now Vahid was hurt and they were guests slash prisoners of a people with no love lost for dragons. 

She paced and fretted until a firm knock sounded at the door an indeterminate time later. Ailani handed her a stack of clothes and what appeared to be a bar of soap with a pointed look at her disheveled appearance. 

Ailani only grinned at the rude noise Naomi made in response- she’d fallen thousands of feet, crash landed in a truly spectacular fashion, been dragged through miles of forest and caverns, and fought a bear yanked straight out of Chernobyl-inspired horror movie. 

So yeah. She’d looked better. She’d _smelled_ better. 

As though she’d heard her thoughts, Ailani motioned for Naomi to step outside with her and pointed to a narrow path leading past the river and into the cavern depths. 

Naomi gently roused Vahid so they could follow her to what turned out to be a natural spring that the clan supposedly used as a communal bathing pool. Ailani left them to it and they quickly undressed and approached the clear blue water. 

It was just on the wrong side of tepid until Vahid lowered himself into the pool and released a flash of heat from his magic that made steam curl up from the water’s surface.

“Not so hot,” she complained, hissing when the water burned the cautious dip of her fingers. Dragons, she’d learned, like their baths scalding hot- way past temperatures that a human could withstand. 

Vahid’s mouth curled in a tired smile as he obediently adjusted the heat pouring off of him. Naomi stripped and stepped into the water once she deemed the temperature acceptable, immediately wading to his side. 

Her examination wasn’t as subtle as she’d thought, apparently, because he gave a dramatic, long-suffering sigh. “I will live another day,” he teased. 

“Not funny,” she said sternly. 

He slid a hand around her waist and pulled her close, bowing his head to press a soft kiss to her shoulder that made her heart do funny things. “I _will_ be fine,” he assured her. “But I’m afraid flying is out of the question for some time.” 

“We’ll make it work,” Naomi murmured, then promptly forgot her next words, distracted by the thumb rubbing absent circles on her hipbone and the quicksilver eyes gleaming at her in the dim cavern. 

“There are guards _right_ outside,” she managed, lust only tampered by the presence of the guards hovering near the entrance. 

Vahid looked at her from beneath long, dark lashes. “Shy?” 

She laughed a little breathlessly. “Voyeurism isn’t my kink.” But she had a feeling if anyone could change her mind it’d be him, so she kissed the corner of his mouth and disengaged to find the soap before they got carried away. 

Her hair was slowly growing out and didn’t need to be washed yet, but she scrubbed her skin with the scented soap as Vahid submerged himself in the water for a long few minutes. 

The clothes Ailani had provided for them both turned out to be leggings and tunics that fell to mid-thigh, loose and comfortable and obscenely soft. The cloth, she noticed, was a different fabric than the clothes Ailani and the warriors had worn earlier. Neither were made of material Naomi was familiar with. 

Vahid- forever reluctant to be parted from his baths- finally climbed out after her. She waited as he dressed, trying to smother the sudden reappearance of nerves. While he perched on a nearby rock to tug on the thin slippers they’d provided, Naomi quietly reached for her magic, relieved at the sudden warmth uncurling within her chest as it answered the call. Vahid caught her hand when she rubbed at her chest, an unconscious gesture in response to her rising anxiety. 

He pressed a kiss to her palm and met her gaze. “It will be alright, my love.” 

She released a slow breath and then nodded sharply. “It will. Let’s go.” 

He smiled and tangled their fingers together. “Let’s.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Much. Worldbuilding. 
> 
> It's a slower start, so bear with me. The fun comes soon!


	4. Darcy: Death Day

**3: DEATH DAY**

**_Darcy_ **

The proximity wards woke her first, a quiet but insistent tug at her conscious until she surfaced from her dream and acknowledged the intruder. She spared half a moment of awareness before the interior wards over her front door activated and a very familiar presence entered the apartment.

She relaxed into a doze, only half aware of Bucky slinking through the dark apartment like a cat darting from shadow to shadow, trying to avoid waking her. 

He always forgot, she mused drowsily, that the wards woke her every time regardless. 

Some indeterminate time later, she heard a soft thump and a muttered curse before the bed dipped as he slid carefully onto the mattress. She rolled over and bumped into him with a quiet hum of welcome, too tired for words. 

Bucky pressed a kiss to her head and wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her close as he murmured, “Sorry, doll. Go back to sleep,” and huffed a laugh at her mumbled assent. 

The small nest of baby birds on the balcony woke her again hours later, screaming their stupid little heads off as sunlight crept across the room and over the bed, striping them in rays of bright golden hues that did little to combat the chill in the room. 

Darcy blinked through the dredges of sleep, slow to wake and resentful of it. She was curled on her side, Bucky on his stomach in front of her with one hand thrown haphazardly across the dip of her waist as he slept, his hair strewn across his face. 

She smiled but didn’t touch, considerate of the unspoken pack-wide mandate against surprising each other in their sleep; the last thing this relationship needed was someone injured because somebody _else_ with advanced combat skills woke up in a panic. 

“Thought you said you were gonna relocate that nest,” Bucky mumbled into his pillow, eyes still closed. 

She grinned. “I _was_ going to do that,” she agreed, wriggling closer. “But Mama Bird threatened my life when I tried. Besides, they’re actually cute as fuck. The parents are those fat little grumpy looking birds and I kind of love it.” 

Darcy squirmed closer again. He cracked an eye open, suspicious of her motives. Smart man. 

“Plus, this is probably revenge for letting Clint come through the window again. She doesn’t like him at _all._ No avian loyalties on her side.” 

Bucky made an amused sound and watched her inch slowly across the space between them. “You check on Jane?” 

“Mhm. I’m a little worried she survives on nothing but protein bars and spite, but she ate real food for at least one meal yesterday.” She yawned. “The palace is different again, so that was fun. And by fun I mean I almost got irradiated.” 

“You _what?_ Jesus, I take my eyes off of you for two seconds…” 

While he was distracted by this news- exactly as planned- she pressed her ice-cold toes to his calves, grinning at his muffled yelp and futile attempts to squirm out of reach. The escape attempt didn’t last long, Bucky finally giving in and tucking her close, grumbling under his breath all the while. 

“It’s like cuddlin’ an icicle,” he harrumphed. She ignored him and splayed her cold fingers across his abdomen, feeling victorious when he hissed but didn’t even try to move away other than the mouthwatering flex of his abs at her touch. 

“Everything go okay?” She asked through another yawn. “Did Steve get shot? Or jump off a building? Or pull one of his other reckless stunts?”

He made a noise of disgust. “He jumped out a third story window without checking below first.” 

“Psh. That’s, like, an average Tuesday for him.” 

“He landed in a truck full of heavily armed AIM security guards,” Bucky said darkly. “Which he said afterwards was on purpose, but I saw his face. He was more surprised than they were.” 

She could picture the scene all too easily- Steve’s shock, Bucky’s open-mouthed disbelief and angry cursing, Sam’s exasperated sigh as he swooped down to pull his boyfriend out of the fire once again. 

“He’s an idiot,” Bucky despaired over her laughter. “How has he survived this long?” 

“You,” she pointed out, still grinning. “Sam. The Avengers, the pack. Some very tired former Shield agents like Maria.” 

He glared balefully at the ceiling as she cracked a yawn against the soft skin of his shoulder and slid her leg up his body. His dark hair was a mess, falling around his face and smelling like her shampoo. 

Metal fingers brushed ever-so-gently against her skin, sliding around to cup the curve of her knee. Pressed against him like this, it was obvious that she was wearing very little other than a loose shirt. 

His free hand plucked at the sleeve. He raised a brow and said, “This is my shirt.” 

“Mmhm.” She slid a hand down his chest to play with the waistband of his faded grey sleep pants. “My pants are somewhere on the floor.” 

“Thank you, I know that,” he said amiably. “I tripped over them getting to bed last night.” 

“Oops.” She muffled a laugh into his shoulder. His hand trailed up her thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps. 

Darcy hummed in response, sinking her knee into the mattress and sliding comfortably astride his waist, enjoying the thick, solid warmth of him between her thighs. 

Blue eyes watched her through dark eyelashes as big hands cupped her knees, thumbs sweeping gently over her skin, remaining extra careful of the scar on her thigh. She sighed and leaned in, one hand bracing beside his head and the other cupping the hard line of his jaw. Stubble tickled her palm as she guided his face to hers. 

“Missed you,” she murmured, lips hovering over his, achingly close. 

He tipped his head back, seeking her mouth. Bucky made a low noise in his throat at the slide of her lips over his, the hint of teeth along his bottom lip. His hands slid up her legs, her waist, skimming underneath the shirt to splay across her back and pull her closer to him. 

The kiss deepened, heat building in her gut at the slow, slick slide of their tongues, mouths stale from sleep. She rocked mindlessly against him, her hand tangling in his hair even as he clamped his hands around her hips and dragged her more firmly against him, grinding leisurely into each other. 

The world was slow and soft and quiet, undercut by an intensifying sense of urgency with every brush of her core against his bulk. Bucky planted his feet on the bed and pushed into the grind of her hips, the thick muscle of his thighs firm against her ass as he rocked her forward. She gasped into his mouth as he moved, little sparks of heat shooting along her spine and pooling low in her belly. 

He pulled away from the kiss to drag the shirt over her head, tossing it aside and leaving her bare. His hands skimmed her belly up to her breasts, thumbs brushing the underside of the sensitive flesh. 

Darcy’s hair fell around her face, curls brushing the tops of her breasts as she squirmed around to straddle his hips instead, grinning when he swore quietly at the heat of her against him. 

He tucked two fingers of the metal hand into the waistband of her underwear and gave the elastic an experimental tug. She narrowed her eyes dangerously at him, a clear warning. 

“It’s easier this way,” he protested, free hand holding her in place by the hip. 

She swatted his hand away from the band. “I’m sick of replacing underwear every time you get too impatient.” Darcy rolled sideways off of him to land on her back, wriggling around like a fish out of water as she wrangled her panties off. They sailed across the room, launched by a flailing leg, before she crawled back onto him. 

“There,” she said, triumphant.

“Very sexy,” Bucky said, dry as the Sahara. He’d taken the opportunity to kick his own pants off so that they were finally, _blessedly_ skin to skin. 

She magnanimously ignored his tone in favor of dipping her fingers past the damp curls between her legs, gliding along slick-soft skin to find the warm, insistent pulse of her clit. Bucky’s teeth caught his lower lip as he propped himself up on his elbows to watch her play with herself, evidence of his interest and arousal like a brand against her core. 

Her hand grew wet and slick, and she tipped her head back on a quiet moan as she slid two fingers into herself, braced against the solid wall of his thighs behind her. Bucky swore quietly, eyes glued to her hand until he eventually reached out to let the pads of his calloused fingers glide over her clit, rubbing gently. 

Darcy whined through a wave of desperate heat at the touch, quickly deciding she wanted more than her fingers. She reached for his cock, which was dribbling precum against the flat plane of his stomach, stroking him with the hand still wet from her cunt. He swore, abs flexing hard as she guided him into her. 

Bucky groaned as she took him in, slow and deep until the lips of her cunt were pressed against his groin, both of them open-mouthed and panting at the burn of him inside her. She clenched around him, _hard,_ and grinned breathlessly at his choked-off noises and iron grip on her hips. 

At least until he abruptly sat up, wound an arm around her waist, and yanked her close. She reared back to avoid smacking their heads together, which resulted a delightful jolt as his cock slipped even deeper into her. 

Their noses brushed. Bucky looked at her from beneath dark lashes, mouth quirked. “Hi.” 

She ducked her head and laughed quietly, forehead resting against his. She loved him so much it hurt sometimes. “Hi.” 

“This seemed to be a more optimal position,” he said solemnly as he rocked his hips in lazy circles, one hand planted on the bed behind him to brace their combined weight. 

“Oh, well, in that case.” She met his next slow thrust with her own, shivering as pleasure wound her higher. Her breasts were pressed against his chest, arms wound around the muscled width of his shoulders, lips brushing his pretty, swollen red mouth. 

Darcy swiveled her hips in a lazy grind as he moved, a counterpoint to his upstroke that made her gasp with every thrust. She was hot and tight and wet around him- in every sense, legs clamped tight to his hips, arms clinging, fingers digging into to skin and metal as she devoted her attention to the sensitive skin just behind his ear. 

He hissed at the touch, the arm around her waist tightening hard enough to leave bruises when she followed the slope of his neck to sink her teeth into the cord of muscle halfway down. 

He canted his hips up and drove into her, desperate now, chasing the same curling, winding pleasure that was crawling up her own spine. 

Darcy moaned and met him stroke for stroke, all sweat-slick skin and tangled hair and lidded eyes to match Bucky in the warm, muted bedroom. 

She focused on the drag of his cock inside her, cunt clenching down hard enough to make him muffle a curse into her chest. Her hands began to claw instead of cling, legs working to draw him closer with every stroke, breaths coming short and pleading as she teetered on that knife’s edge, so close to coming she felt like a wire stretched too thin, strung out and desperate for release. 

Bucky gave it to her, knew the signs of her orgasms probably better than she did. He braced his feet again, other hand coming up to grab her by the waist as he used his frankly inhuman abdominal muscles to stay in position, letting her ride him to release, not seeking his own until she was gasping out his name and coming hard around his cock. 

Only then did he move, yanking her by the hips when she faltered to keep fucking her on his length, swearing as the heat pooled in his belly went off like a flash bang. 

He collapsed back to the mattress, breathing hard, but kept an arm around her waist to keep her close, letting her sprawl out over his body. 

“Holy shit,” she whimpered, aftershocks making her legs shake. “I _really_ missed you.” 

He still laughed like it surprised him every time, she thought with a pang. Bucky pressed a kiss to her sweaty temple. “Missed you, too, doll.” 

She pulled her wild mane of hair out of their faces and patted his chest. “Glad to hear it. Now get up, I need a shower and food, in that order.” 

“Brat,” he grumbled, but tucked an arm around her and rolled them out of bed. She yelped in surprise and nearly sent them both tumbling to the floor. 

He ignored her flailing and managed to keep them both on their feet, propelling her towards the bathroom. 

“Not nice, Barnes.” 

He just flattened his hand across her belly and pulled her along. She saw where he was going and put on the brakes- he’d pulled this trick before, a petty retaliation that she wasn’t about to fall for _again,_ dammit, she had a _reputation_ to uphold- 

The arm around her waist tightened when she caught the shower door and clung to it like a cat up a tree, angry hissing included. 

“Don’t you dare,” she warned, the wood groaning a protest from underneath her death grip. 

“You said you wanted a shower,” he said innocently, tugging her a few inches closer to the looming shower head. His free hand reached ominously towards the shower controls. 

“Bucky. If you throw me under ice cold water again, I swear to all that is holy that I will _end_ you.” 

He cocked his head in thought, a playful light in his blue eyes that warmed her even as she seriously considered punching him in the face to get away. 

Then, to her dismay, he shrugged. “Acceptable risk. Steve will avenge me.” He turned on the water and yanked her underneath it with him, grinning as she shrieked like a banshee and tried desperately to escape. 

~*~ 

“I can’t believe you bit me,” he marveled, studying the bruised imprint of her teeth on his flesh bicep. “Talk about not fighting fair.” 

Still disgruntled, wet hair dripping uncomfortably down the back of her shirt, Darcy crossed her arms and glared at him. “You’re lucky I didn’t do worse. I’ll get you back for this, I hope you know.” 

Bucky smiled smugly at her from over his plate, unconcerned with a warning that would have sent others fleeing in terror. 

Darcy grew up with the _Hales,_ who did he even think he was. She’d make him regret ever _meeting_ her. 

His shoulders shook as she muttered all of that and other dire warnings under her breath, but he was smart enough to duck his head to hide his stupid, handsome, laughing face from her. 

A loud bang in the hallway distracted them briefly, but neither bothered to check on it when it wasn’t followed up by shouts or screams. 

This apartment was better protected than the damn White House. Anyone who tried to break in here would have the worst and shortest day of their life. 

And anyway, Derek and Stiles both had free reign of their place, along with the rest of the pack. They entered without bothering to knock, which she thought they’d remember not to do after walking on her and Bucky in compromising positions more than once. 

Stiles was arguing with Imani, who held Darcy’s revived plant, as Derek trailed them both with an expression of fond exasperation. 

“-because it was my responsibility to do it,” Stiles was saying as he entered the apartment. 

Imani looked unimpressed. “You lost a bet, didn’t you?” 

“It can be two things!” 

“What can?” Darcy asked, suspicious. 

Stiles jerked around, eyes wide and guilty like that time she’d caught him drinking straight from her coffee pot with a giant crazy straw. “Nothing!” 

She made a rude sound of disbelief but let it slide, turning to Imani as the talented druid set Darcy’s plant on the windowsill with a gentle parting touch that made its leaves sway happily. 

“All better,” she said, satisfied. “Don’t let Clint near it again.” 

“Noted,” Darcy said wryly. “Thanks.” 

Derek set down the booklet in his hand, which turned out to be a couple swatches of paint colors. “You said you wanted to repaint your living room, so I brought some options for you. I marked my favorites.” 

He hugged Bucky tightly, the embrace long and close in the usual spectacular hugs from their pack of werewolves. The constant affection from the pack had left Bucky feeling a little raw at first, but her family had drawn him in and kept him close, bullying their way into his life so that he would never feel lost or alone ever again. 

They were at least fifty percent of the reason for Darcy’s frequent stress headaches, but she really, truly loved her family and their unquestioning, unwavering support. 

“I’m taking a couple books, Darce,” Derek said as he wandered over to her wall of bookshelves. She waved an assent. Most of her collection was a scattered assortment of random pack member’s books, anyway. She knew Boyd was currently in possession of at least ten of hers. 

Stiles and Imani started going through the cabinets in search of food, discussing a new creation that Malik, Imani’s twin brother, had developed in his lab. 

Bucky flipped through the book of paint samples, brow furrowing as he came across two that Derek had marked. Darcy peered over his shoulder. 

“Aren’t those the same color?” She asked lowly, squinting. 

Bucky made a relieved noise. “That’s what I thought, too.” 

“One is Bluejay, and the other is Brandon’s Blue,” Derek called with a superior tone that activated her instinctual obligation as a sibling to give him shit. He glared when she quietly mocked him. 

“Who the fuck is Brandon?” Bucky muttered, holding the two samples up for closer comparison. They studied them for a baffled moment. 

“If you held a gun to my head and told me to tell one apart from the other, I’d just close my eyes and get right with god,” she said decisively. 

“Ingrate,” Derek accused. 

“Nerd,” she shot back. 

“You’re both dumb,” Laura said as she sailed through the door, black hair piled in a lazy bun on top of her head and wearing a shirt that was most definitely Santi’s. 

Darcy and Derek, in true sibling fashion, promptly abandoned their argument to join forces against her. 

“Damn, there goes our peace and quiet,” Darcy sighed. 

Derek nodded in mournful agreement. “It was nice while it lasted.” He growled when Laura punched him in the arm, only to then be hauled into a headlock. 

Santiago wandered in as the two of them fought, Derek struggling to dislodge her iron grip and Laura basking in her obvious superiority. The jaguar shifter leveled a long-suffering look at them before returning Bucky’s quiet greeting. 

“You’re back early,” Darcy said, moving to hug him. Imani and Stiles had paused their discussion to passively watch Laura and Derek fight. 

“Laura got sick of babysitting adults werewolves who should know better. Her words,” he clarified when Darcy snorted. “She thinks a magic user should come with us next time, though, to help manage some of their anger and control issues.” 

Derek swore behind them, his voice tinged by a deep, angry rumble as he tried and failed to flip Laura over his shoulder. There was a heavy thump as they both hit the floor, followed by a fierce growl.

“What about Deaton?” Darcy asked with a confused smile. Surely the druid who’d trained her and Stiles could handle a couple of poorly socialized werewolves. 

To her surprise, Santi sobered and glanced over at Laura, who’d wrestled Derek into submission via textbook arm-bar. At his look, the Alpha of the Hale pack finally stopped tormenting her younger brother and sprang to her feet. 

“Deaton’s gone,” she announced, hands on her hips. Stiles’s head snapped around and Darcy’s hand found Bucky’s of its own accord. 

“What do you mean, _gone?_ Mom always said he’s lived in Beacon Hills since before most of us were born,” Derek asked, sitting up and blowing a feather from a pillow- one of many casualties, damn werewolves, anyway- out of his face. 

Laura’s mouth twisted. “Early retirement, according to what he told Mom. He gave Scott the vet clinic and left the next day.”

“Of his own free will?” Darcy asked, sharing a baffled look with Stiles. Their teacher was as enigmatic, reserved, and secretive as anyone she’d ever met- _including_ all the assassins and spies in her life- but he’d been a friend of the Hales for decades. 

“Mom said it was bizarre, but that he seemed perfectly fine, if a little abrupt.” 

They considered this for a moment.

“I don’t like it,” Stiles said flatly. 

“That’s because you’re the most suspicious person in the universe,” Laura told him. He just scowled until she rolled her eyes and relented. “Lucky for you, Peter agreed. He told Mom that he’d look into it after she called him with the news.” 

Relief tampered Darcy’s growing uneasiness. Her adoptive father was sly and underhanded and very, very clever. With an Argent at his side, he was just as dangerous as the superheroes that Darcy and her pack palled around with these days. 

“That won’t go well,” Stiles muttered, looking quietly worried. “Deaton’s afraid of Peter.”

“Of _Peter?”_ Asked Imani, incredulous. “Why?” 

“Peter’s complete lack of an internal moral compass,” Laura said cheerfully. “Deaton thinks he’s, like, one minor inconvenience from a killing spree. Fuck knows why.” 

Darcy looped her arms around Bucky’s wide shoulders from behind and leaned against him as the others continued talking, pressing her mouth absently to the curve of his neck as she considered Deaton’s absence. 

He turned his head slightly to the side to show that his attention was on her. 

“You okay?” He sounded unsure, likely unfamiliar with her level of attachment to Deaton. Darcy hummed quietly in response so he wouldn’t worry- the absence of Deaton was a minor concern. 

Nothing like the loss of Naomi, the teacher who’d undoubtedly saved Stiles and Darcy’s lives all those years ago, who’d taken them in and taught them everything they needed to stand on their own- no, who’d shown them that they’d already _had_ everything they needed to stand on their own. 

Darcy hoped Naomi was happy in the dragon realm with Vahid, but _fuck,_ she missed her. 

“’S just weird,” she said, soft and thoughtful. “Deaton always kept himself apart from the pack- seemed offended at the idea of joining it, actually- but he’d been there for years.” 

“Since before I was born,” Stiles added in agreement. That was news to her; she lifted her head and looked at him in question. He shrugged. “My dad mentioned it offhand one day, that Deaton had come to Beacon Hills only a couple months after my mom moved there. I only remember because… well, he doesn’t talk about Mom that often.” 

Derek was beside him suddenly, one hand pressed between Stiles’s should blades in silent support, no doubt a response to the riptide of grief that always accompanied talk of the sparks’ mothers. 

“Hey, where’s my nephew?” Laura asked, looking around as though just noticing the absence of one of the pack’s baby werewolves. 

“He’s at school, and no, you may not check him out early,” Derek said firmly. “We’re going to get a truancy letter if you keep doing that.” 

Laura scoffed. “I’m a lawyer, baby brother, I could get you out of that one easy.” 

“Save it for when we really need it,” Stiles advised. “I have a feeling puberty is going to be _rough_ for that one.” 

Darcy glanced at the clock blinking on the oven. “You all remember to meet at Inferno at eight, right?” 

Laura blinked at her. 

“For Julian’s death day celebration?” Darcy prompted. 

Vampires, according to Julian, celebrated the date of their turning rather than their human birthdays. And as the vampiric clan leader of the entire eastern coast- maybe even the country, Julian refused to confirm or deny because he was a contrary bastard with a terrible sense of humor- his party was liable to extend for days _and_ across many New York blocks. 

“That’s on Friday,” Laura argued. 

“Today is Friday,” Imani informed her helpfully. 

“Wow, really? Jesus, I definitely thought it was Wednesday. I need a nap before we go _anywhere.”_ Laura waggled her eyebrows at Santi. “Whatcha say, handsome? Want to go bed a werewolf?” 

“I know you’re being suggestive solely to get on your brother’s nerves, but a nap is the sexiest thing you could offer me right now,” Santiago said seriously. 

Laura cracked a real grin and swung an arm around his waist. “Okay, we’re going to pass out for a couple hours and maybe have exhausted-but-glad-we’re-in-our-own-bed-again sex.” 

“I _hate_ you,” Derek grumbled as she and Santi sailed out the door and down the stairs to their apartment. 

Stiles shook his head, disappointed. “She does it just to get a rise out of you, babe, and it works every time.” 

There was a thud from below, followed by Laura’s unmistakable laughter drifting through the open door.

“I’m leaving,” Derek announced. “The apartments, definitely. The city, maybe.” Stiles just laughed at him and followed Derek’s angry stalk out the door with a half-hearted parting wave. 

Darcy cast a glance around the room to search for her shoes. “I’m going to go see Dad.” 

“Which one?” Bucky asked, pointing at the boots shoved underneath the entertainment center. 

“The superhero,” she answered with a smile. “He’s been keeping Julian’s present for me, and I need to pick it up before the party.”

“I’ll walk with you. I need to drag Malik out of his lab,” Imani said with a sigh. 

“Oh, is he going?” Darcy looked up from pulling her boots on, surprised. Malik was the tower’s resident druid inventor, a genius by anyone’s standards. He was also autistic, extremely reactive to loud noises, and while regularly dragged out by his friends to go cycling or swimming, he had little interest in the pack’s social activities. 

Imani snorted a laugh as they trotted down the stairs and onto the street. “Oh, definitely not. We’re going to a dinner party with our parents, and I know he’ll lose track of time or find some brilliant new discovery if I don’t get him out now. My dad wants to show us off to his university friends.” She rolled her eyes, but Darcy could tell her father’s pride in his kids meant the world to her. 

“You’re coming to Inferno after?” Bucky asked, holding the door open for them to walk through. 

Imani rolled her eyes again and linked arms with Darcy as they headed for the tower, nodding or smiling in return as assorted supernatural friends called out to any one of them. Despite how shy she could be, Imani liked _people,_ and she made it her goal to know everyone within four blocks of their Iron Heights apartments. 

“Yes, but I’ll catch a cab or get an Uber, mother hen. Relax.” 

Bucky stepped neatly around them to clear the way, the humans quick to clear a path for the Winter Soldier, whether they actually recognized him or not. Something about the hindbrain animal instincts clamoring for escape from the icy glare he terrorized the streets with, Darcy presumed. She mostly just found it really hot.

“Still, text one of us when you leave,” Darcy said, squeezing their linked arms. “We like to know our family’s safe.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know the protocol. Though I’d still like to argue that Clint is the only one who should be required to follow it. He gets kidnapped, like, all the time.” 

“Does it count if he doesn’t realize he’s been kidnapped?” Darcy wondered. 

“Yes,” Bucky said at the same time Imani decided, “Nah.” 

The ensuing argument carried them the rest of the way to the tower, and Darcy marveled at the sorry state of Clint Barton’s life that they had so many examples to argue over. Hawkguy was a mess. 

They stumbled across Natasha and Maria in the lobby of the tower, roping them into the debate, too. Darcy abandoned ship right about the time Natasha and Bucky started arguing in rapid-fire Russian about something from their Red Room days that somehow related and Darcy was positive she didn’t want to know the details of. 

Julian’s present was a bottle of “wine” made by a carnivorous clan of Unseelie Fae- a wine that super old vampires apparently used to _literally_ kill for- that she was pretty sure had a blood base. It’d taken her two days of negotiations and fifty pounds of bleeding raw steaks to acquire, so he’d damn well better like it. 

Tony found her in his penthouse a few minutes later, standing on the counter to reach the bottles along the top shelf. 

She’d found Julian’s bottle easily enough, stashed in the relative safety of his temperature-controlled wine cooler and surrounded by warning signs to stay away from the Fae wine that was possibly lethal to humans. 

The language barrier had made it difficult, and she still wasn’t sure if the Faes’ charades act of a response had been related to an invitation for sex or a very enthusiastic death scene. 

But now she wanted a bottle of whiskey for Nate, Julian’s best friend and right hand man, because apparently he was a psycho and just liked the taste of it. 

Tony craned his neck back to watch her sort through his stuff, Pepper and Rhodey behind him and watching with amusement. 

“Hey, kid. Whatcha doin’?” 

She grinned at him over her shoulder. “Stealing.” 

His mouth quirked. “Uh huh. Get down before you fall and bust your head open.” 

“Says you,” she grumbled, arguing on instinct. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, indignant, poking at her legs to annoy her into cooperation. 

Rhodey snorted. “Please. You’re the most belligerent person I’ve ever met, and I deal with marines _and_ my sister’s toddlers on a regular basis.” 

“Hey! Traitor!” Tony yelped while Darcy and Pepper snickered. 

“Dad says you’re secretly an instigator,” Darcy informed Rhodey, handing the bottle down to Tony so she could carefully sit before sliding off the counter. His free hand hovered all the while, as though _actually_ worried she’d fall and break her skull on his shiny countertops. 

“He’s a liar,” Rhodey assured her. 

“The hell I am,” Tony muttered. “Who do you think is always egging me on? Or very pointedly _not_ stopping me?” 

“Doesn’t count,” Rhodes said, smug. 

“It does, too, you know I take that as permission.” They wandered off towards the doors to his lab, still bickering, off to apply new updates- ie. exploding things- to their suits.

Darcy turned to Pepper, who was in all honesty a saint for choosing to love Tony Stark despite all his drama and bullshit. “Did you get your invitation?”

Pepper tucked her hair behind an ear and smiled, always so quietly pleased to be included in pack and pack-adjacent functions. “I did. Julian sent mine and Tony’s straight to my office. I’m going with Natasha and Lydia after dinner, since Tony and Rhodey already have plans.” 

Darcy knew the three women had bonded over being redheaded and terrifying- Stiles’s words- and that Pepper had initially struggled to find her footing after the Extremis incident. No one outside of the room, other than Bucky, knew that she technically had lethal and slightly unstable superpowers. 

Superpowers that she didn’t seem to want to acknowledge. But it wasn’t up to Darcy to decide anything for Pepper. The woman was a force of nature. She could handle it just fine without Darcy or the pack butting in or hovering. 

Besides, Pepper had adjusted well to the supernatural reveal, and even tolerated a pack of wolves and far stranger wandering through her home. 

And, Darcy thought later that night with some amusement, watching Pepper go shot-for-shot with Laura without flinching, she even seemed excited to be included in some of their more normal activities. 

Such as a vampire’s death day celebration at his infamous supernatural nightclub, bumping elbows with Fae and shifters and vampires without missing a beat. 

Darcy returned to her conversation with a various assortment of supernatural beings, assured that Pepper was watched over with so many strangers in the building. 

She leaned closer to hear her over the music, something with a thumping beat and indecipherable lyrics. The rest of the club was split between extremely enthusiastic dancers, the crowd getting shit-faced drunk at the bar, and random huddles of people talking over the music. 

“I’m just saying, there’s enough footage of supernaturals existing in our world that my Alpha is getting worried,” a werewolf from a pack down the coast said, sipping a lime green drink that smelled like candy and tasted like battery acid to anyone but a ‘wolf. 

A vampire who looked twelve but was in fact at least a century old, by Darcy’s best guess, shrugged. “We can always chalk it up to editing.”

“It’s not enough,” the ‘wolf argued. “There’s too much random footage to make it all disappear, and being outed that way could be the end of us all.” 

A short, wrinkled old druid named Kai, whom Julian had personally flown from New Zealand for the party, dangled his feet from his chair with a cane resting within reach. Darcy’d seen him use it to great effect, smashing kneecaps of the rowdier crowd until they scrambled back to safety. “Controlling the narrative is important. What do you think, spark?” 

Darcy rolled her glass between her hands, checking on Bucky in deep conversation with Allison and Jane a few tables over, and considered the question. 

“We’re worried about public reaction,” she admitted. The others nodded in agreement. “No secret lasts forever.” 

“I believe _I_ was the one to first impart that wisdom upon you,” Julian said as he appeared beside her, wearing a lopsided sparkly pink tiara in his mussed blond hair. His shirt was four buttons looser than when she’d first seen him, and there were lipstick marks adorning his pale skin from neck to navel. 

Darcy raised her brows at him. He obstinately raised his chin in response to her silent judgement and continued. “If we- _all_ supernaturals- come out together, as a whole, then it’s far less likely the humans will try to eradicate a single group of us.” 

“Vampires will go first,” Kai pointed out. “Humans like to romanticize your kind, but the reality is less kind. They’ll hunt you down.” 

“Then it’s a good thing I have so many friends, isn’t it?” Julian shot back. 

The druid reached threateningly for his cane, and Julian hastily backed out of reach before he could be whacked. “In all seriousness, my kind is well aware of the humans’ probable reaction to a race of evil bloodsucking monsters who prey on them in the dark. Even the regard of humans with, ah, particular kinks won’t change that.” 

“An outed werewolf would have the same result,” Darcy pointed out. “Fear mongering and mob mentality could create a global disaster.” 

“And what would you suggest?” The other vampire asked sharply- not quite a challenge, but something in her tone that meant she wanted a genuine answer from one of the world’s few sparks about what they had planned for their kind. 

Time to use her degree, Darcy thought wryly. “Bring them out carefully, in situations that show the best of _who_ we are. How many ‘wolves are firefighters, former or current military, first responders? _Use_ that, especially to appeal to the conservative crowds. Express the druids’ pacifist beliefs and incredible gifts of the earth, the vampire’s ability to blend into society because they appreciate humanity, the reminders of _life_ they’re without, the Fae and magic users who find their niche to do good in this world.

“We reveal how the druids and Fae and ‘wolves and vamps have been here all along, using their abilities to help humans. Because at the end of the day we all want to _build_ something, to create a solid foundation for future generations so that they won’t have to live afraid the way we did. We appeal to them as _people,_ who still deserve rights and a life without fear.” 

There was a moment of silence after she’d finished, and she realized that somewhere along the way the music had quieted and her audience consisted of anyone close and sober enough to listen. 

Her cheeks heated and she resisted the urge to duck her head. But Bucky, Jane, and Allison were smiling warmly at her, and the other supes were paying close, careful attention to her words.

Darcy swallowed hard and continued. “Unity is key. We present a single front, with an established system to manage our own affairs. Any one group is targeted, and we back them up. Remind the humans that we’re here to make this world better, but we won’t stand by while others like us are torn down. We won’t sacrifice any single one of us, and meanwhile we police ourselves, hold each other to a standard designed to keep us safe in a dangerous world. 

“Integrating into any society is never easy, but we’re already _here,_ and we’re not going anywhere. This is our world too, our lives on the line, and we _can_ coexist. Besides, there are already superheroes and mutants and other powered people living in the open. So we come out, too, and no single government in the world has the power to take us all. Not if we stand together.” 

She tried not to fidget under dozens of thoughtful stares. Finally the music kicked back on, _thank_ _god,_ and gradually the crowd returned to their partying. 

“So, you’ve put a little thought into this?” Julian asked casually as he draped an arm over her shoulders. 

Kai barked out a laugh. “Someone has to bring us into this bold new world,” he mused. “I suppose there’s none better suited for the job than a spark.” 

“No, not just me. We need a public face for every species, so the humans have an individual to relate to. Politics 101,” Darcy insisted. 

“Ah, but the reminder of a Sentinel standing guard over us, that’s what the supernatural people need. A reassurance that we won’t be abandoned to the mercy of humankind. That we will have someone willing to fight for us if the situation calls for it. And I think you and your friend are uniquely positioned for such a thing.” 

Kai cocked his head, considering her with dark eyes before he continued. “Many of my kind dislike sparks, as I’m sure you know. They don’t trust them, and, despite their denial, are jealous of your power. My advice, spark, is to tread softly, and carry a big stick.” He grinned, raising his cane and waving it pointedly as nearby supes ducked away. 

“It helps that there’s some level of willful ignorance, at least in this city,” Darcy said. “The humans see and hear more than they think, which might help with perception- harder to turn on your neighbor, your coworker, your friend than a stranger.” 

“Enough depressing talk!” Julian announced. “It’s my death day. We can discuss changing the world as we know it later, such as when I’m sober and will remember it.” 

“Did you drink that whole bottle?” Darcy demanded. “The Fae said no more than a glass every 24 hours!” 

“For the weak, maybe,” Julian sneered. “I’m made of sterner stuff. Anyway, stop distracting me. I came over here to reintroduce you to an old friend.” 

“Oh?” Darcy let him drag her away, waving goodbye to the others. Supernaturals of various stages of drunkenness bumped into them as Julian pulled her through the crowd, and Darcy was happy to see the lack of fear on their faces even after they realized who they’d crashed into. 

She and Stiles had worked hard to build relationships with the supernatural world, and to overcome the fear mongering about her kind. It was nice to see proof that it was working.

“Vanessa Marianna,” Julian announced, and a slender, dark haired woman wearing a fitted white suit and blood-red lipstick turned away from the bar. “Remember her? Good, I’m going for another drink. Goodbye.”

“How could I ever forget the vampire that helped me wrangle redneck werewolves into returning a priceless museum artifact?” Darcy recalled Vanessa’s imposing figure and impeccable style well- she was not a forgettable woman. 

Vanessa smiled. “The very one. I trust you’ve had no more issues with them?” 

“None, thankfully, considering you couldn’t pay me to go back.” In her periphery, Darcy saw Stiles lean against the bar behind Vanessa, cheerfully bothering the unimpressed bartender for another drink. “How have you been? I didn’t realize you were in the city.” 

“Oh, in and out. I’m mostly in Hell’s Kitchen these days, if I’m in the city at all.” 

“Dangerous part of town,” Darcy said. “Aren’t there vigilantes running around out that way?” She didn’t know much about them, other than Tony’s vague, annoyed mutterings about wanna-be superheroes encroaching on his territory. 

Vanessa’s smile sharpened. “Yes. Though a particularly impressive human man, Wilson Fisk, plans to put a stop to their dangerous activities before someone gets hurt. His ambition is… admirable.” 

She continued speaking, but Darcy’s focus suddenly was on Stiles, who’d turned to Vanessa with a thoughtful frown at the mention of Fisk. 

Stiles, she knew, tracked potential threats to the pack, to the city, and whoever else he just didn’t like for any number of reasons. His reaction made her wonder if Wilson Fisk had a spot on his list- and if so, what he’d done to earn it. 

Regardless, it wouldn’t hurt to know more, to collect information on this Fisk person. Smiling, she tuned back into her conversation with Vanessa, museum curator by day and vampire by night, and got to work. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I watched like 2 seasons of Daredevil and, as a result, will be fucking with their timeline, too. You're all probably used to it by now though lol


	5. Naomi: The Nakano

**4: THE NAKANO**

**_Naomi_ **

**Six Months Later**

Naomi clung to the side of the cliff face, hands digging into the firm rock that she was pressed against. Fog hovered in the air, the mist so thick and heavy that she could barely make out the figures only a few feet away from her position. 

The Nakano warriors wore the same disguise as Naomi, a thick leather cloak dyed mottled greens and grey to blend in with the surrounding rocks and trees. Straps fastened to their wrists and ankles kept it snug against their bodies, the hood tied in a choker around her neck to keep it over her head. She marveled quietly at its effectiveness- even this close, she could barely distinguish their bodies from the uneven rock. 

The heavy thud of wings high above stirred the fog. They froze in place. The wing beats were an echoing war drum in this jutting forest of towering rock spires, and they could only mean one thing.

Somewhere, hidden in the mist, lurked a dragon. 

Her group would be easily plucked from the cliff by a passing dragon if they were seen. A whispered command drifted through the fog and Naomi obeyed the scout’s words instantly, tucking herself even tighter against the rock. She felt the cloak cling to her body, pulling taut so no loose ends would flap in the wind stirred by a passing dragon and give her away. 

They didn’t have to wait long. Out of the white vapor soared a colossal beast, swift and shrewd and so very lethal. Bright eyes gleamed in the corner of her vision as it passed by, then vanished from her sight as the dragon flew past. She held as still as possible, hardly daring to breathe until the heavy beat of wings faded. 

The scout whispered again and the group detached from their frozen positions, glancing warily behind them for signs of the dragon’s return. Too late, Naomi realized that, rather than leaving, the dragon had simply flown to a nearby rock tower. Now it gripped the spire between four feet to cling to the side of it like a cat on a tree, waiting for them to believe it safe to move and give away their positions. 

She swore and barked a warning to the others. They twisted around to follow her gaze and then, without hesitation, they jumped. 

But Naomi waited as the others hurtled to the ground from hundreds of feet in the air. The dragon craned its long neck to watch them fall with interest, its wings flaring slightly in preparation for a dive to give chase.

She sent a bolt of her magic towards the beast, the strike slamming into the rock right beside its face. The dragon’s resounding growl shook the trees below and bounced eerily off of the rock spires, including the one Naomi still clung to. It didn’t take but a heartbeat for the dragon to find her and hone in. 

Intelligent eyes narrowed on her. Naomi grinned, lowered her weight into her toes, then pushed off and away from the cliff face in a backwards leap. There was a moment of suspension that she savored, arched and hovering in midair above the still, quiet terrain. 

And then gravity beckoned, the stillness evaporated with a brush of the dragon’s wings, and she plunged into the white nothing. The fog closed in around her as she fell, rapidly gaining speed. 

Further below the wind churned, and Naomi felt the moment she fell into a current. She spread her arms and legs, let the taut leather of her cloak catch the wind current and carry her further and faster away from the dragon on her heels. 

A shift of air behind her- she tucked one arm in and barrel rolled to the side so fast it made her dizzy. And then she set aside all distractions to focus intently on navigating the forest of unyielding rock spires, tucking and rolling and winding through clusters so tight that the dragon couldn’t follow. 

A roar of frustration meant she was successful in her escape. _Victory._ She sent a flare of her spark into the heavy, clinging mist, aware that the canopy of trees below would make for a painful and embarrassing landing. 

Before mild concern could shift to real worry, though, the dragon swooped through the fog once more to glide beside her on leathery wings. Naomi steered closer until she could reach out and grasp the tall spike between its shoulders and pull herself onto its back. 

She panted, flushed with victory, as Vahid hummed beneath her with approval. She’d caught her breath by the time Vahid circled and landed carefully where Ailani and the Nakano warriors waited. 

Naomi leaped from his back and grinned at them. “Told you I could do it.” The Nakano words fell easily from her lips- she’d always been good with new languages, and total immersion was one hell of a motivator. 

“A shame. I bet Kadir my best knife you’d end up splattered on the ground,” Ailani said with apparent disappointment, but Naomi caught the glint of humor in her green eyes as she turned away. 

Kadir, the young man whom they’d first encountered in this world, leaned in to whisper, “She didn’t really, but _Dehai_ did,” before collecting his prize and trotting off to Ailani’s side as they returned to the city. 

Vahid shifted and rolled his shoulders, testing his range of motion with a pleased expression. “That was fun,” he told her, eyes bright. 

Naomi released the cloak’s ties from around her neck, wrists, and ankles. “It was.” The Nakano clan had been teaching her all manners of things during their stay, and evidently climbing to extreme heights and flying with a homemade flight suit was a crucial skill for their hunters. And an essential part of hunting this high up was escaping the clutches of the dragons that swept down from above. 

The cloak, she’d learned, was made from the hide and wings of a large predatory bird that lived in this realm. Their meat was a delicacy, especially considering they were massive and very hard to kill, but the rest of the bird was far more important to the Nakano. 

They used the hide and wings for clothing and flight suits, the raptor claws for lethal curved weapons, and the dense bones for a number of things. Jewelry, instruments, canes for the disabled and elderly, staffs, even structural support for minor frames such as Naomi’s chairs in the small home she shared with Vahid. 

Vahid narrowed his eyes at the underbrush behind her, head cocked in a way that meant he heard something approaching. Naomi twisted around, aware that Ailani and the others were probably out of hearing range, and then relaxed at the booming woof that sounded just before a monstrous canid barreled through the bushes. 

The animals in this realm bore some similarity to Earth's early creatures- the ones brought over when the dragons created their new realm. But evolution here was very different than on Earth, and it showed undeniably in the heavy frame of the Arcos. 

She could identify the similarities to Earth’s wolves and other large canine breeds, but other than a handful of characteristics the Arcos were a new creature entirely. 

Bigger, rangier, they’d developed a better range of motion in the shoulders not unlike that of a large feline predator or a bear. The smallest Arcos reached Naomi’s waist in height and they all had thick coats, long tapered ears, and giant paws. 

In spite of their truly colossal size- the average weight being an easy four hundred pounds- they had superior speed paired with bone-crushing teeth set in a wide jaw. She’d once witnessed a pack of Arcos tear a Behemot apart with an intelligence and systematic execution that surpassed even the most clever of Earth’s canine species. 

They bonded with their chosen humans after only a few months of age and rarely left their side after selecting their new companions. 

This particular Arcos seemed to understand that Naomi was new to this dangerous new world and therefore entirely helpless and in need of constant supervision. Partly, she’d learned, because the Arcos’s previous bonded human had been kidnapped one solar cycle previous by a dragon, never to be seen again. 

Now Sayali greeted her with boundless enthusiasm, pointedly ignoring Vahid as she attempted to herd Naomi back to safety in the Nakano city. Her thick tail beat against Naomi’s thighs, the Arcos’s heavily muscled legs splattered with the blood of some unfortunate creature. 

Naomi huffed a laugh at the Arcos’s deep grumbly noises when she didn’t obey, reaching down to ruffle the thick mane that stretched from behind Sayali’s ears to her shoulders. Her legs and underbelly were white, the rest of her coat a deep blue-black with a wide pattern of white stripes across her shoulders and back. 

Sayali sent Vahid a suspicious glare when he approached. “Be nice,” Naomi admonished, but she knew that the Arcos had been raised knowing that dragons were a threat- and only confirmed when her previous owner had been taken. 

“We should return,” Vahid said, studying the fading light. “The second sun sets soon, and we should not remain out here in the dark.” 

Naomi shivered and agreed, leaning on Sayali as they clambered through the wild forest. Vahid’s mouth quirked into a smile. “Sore?” 

She groaned. “Ailani takes perverse joy in beating the hell out of me.” Naomi knew how to defend herself, of course, had been taught judo and jiu jitsu by her mother when she was old enough to not hurt herself doing so, but she was a little rusty. Ailani had taken it upon herself to ensure Naomi brushed up on those skills. 

Only, the humans here fought quick and dirty and _brutal._ Old skills clashed with the learning curve of the ferocious new style. She’d picked up on it fast, but Ailani was like a one-woman army. 

They passed through the deep caverns that had been so intimidating on that first journey, now unbothered by the eerie noises and faint light. Sayali guided her over uneven ground through the darkest spots, Vahid a steady presence on her other side as they followed the path to the city. 

She was grateful for the regular Nakano patrols that kept the creatures that lurked in the forest and caverns away from the city boundaries. She’d joined a few herself and had the utmost admiration for the hunters that went out daily to guard Kailua’s borders.

People greeted them both with cautious welcome, some warming up to their presence faster than others. Much of their acceptance, Naomi knew, came from Chief Kanoa’s public welcome as his guests. She caught sight of the imposing leader speaking softly with a Weaver, respectful and indulgent towards the elder woman lecturing him loudly about something that made the surrounding citizens duck their heads to cover wide grins. 

Kanoa caught her eye and nodded a brief greeting. Naomi returned it, turning towards home, and thought back to their first meeting with the leader of the Nakano clan. 

~*~ 

_Chief Kanoa possessed a gravitas that made him the focus of every room he entered. Finely dressed, impeccably groomed, and face utterly neutral, he strolled into the room where Naomi and Vahid waited with Ailani near the table resting low to the ground._

_Kanoa said something to Ailani, who dutifully translated to Vahid in Old Persian- or whatever this world’s approximate language was to it. Naomi waited, barely concealing her frustration as Vahid parsed the meaning of their words and finally translated for her._

_“He says that his scouts informed him that we appeared out of thin air. He did not believe them until Ailani confirmed it.”_

_Both Nakano clan members watched them closely as they spoke, as unfamiliar with English as Naomi was with their languages. “I guess they’re unfamiliar with the portal, then?”_

_Vahid shrugged. “I assume a few centuries have passed here as well, if time works similarly here to earth. These people may not know the portal exists, much less that dragons once migrated from another dimension entirely through it.”_

_“Do you see any harm in telling them the truth?”_

_“I believe that lying to them will do more harm than good.” But still, he waited for her nod of agreement to continue._

_Kanoa sat on a plush cushion across the table, Ailani at his right side, and gestured for them to do the same. Naomi waited while Vahid spoke for so long that she had to blink back the exhaustion that crept over her._

_The Nakano leaders asked questions, apparently needing clarification on events or certain words that didn’t translate. Occasionally their eyes drifted to Naomi. Both humans seemed to know the evolved Old Persian in addition to their own clan language. Naomi listened closely, trying to identify key words and phrases that would help her pick up on both languages faster. She heard the names of the dragon royals he’d mentioned months ago, saw the Nakano leaders’ eyes sharpen at Vahid’s reference to them._

_Two young servers set cups of water and bowls of a soup that smelled incredible on the table before disappearing behind a door, shooting curious looks at Naomi and Vahid over their shoulders._

_Ailani dipped a wide spoon into the chief’s bowl, tested the liquid, and finally nodded for Kanoa to proceed. Naomi and Vahid waited until he took his first sip to reach for their own spoons, expertly crafted from the same sleek wood as the bowls and cups._

_The soup was thick and creamy, unfamiliar herbs and spices lingering on her tastebuds after each mouthful. She made a quiet noise of appreciation and surprise, tucking into the soup._

_No one spoke until the servers returned to clear the bowls away and then left again. Only then did Kanoa speak, his voice a smooth tenor._

_“He would like to know what we seek,” Vahid murmured._

_“Your family,” she said. “The rest of your kind.”_

_His jaw clenched. “I worry that they dislike the dragons of this realm enough that mentioning that could put us- you- at risk.”_

_“Vahid.” She reached over and squeezed his hand, aware that the two humans watched them. “If that’s the case, we’ll handle it. Ask.” His hesitation warmed her, though, proof that he would abandon his quest for answers if it meant injury or danger for her. But she loved him, knew how much the uncertainty gnawed at him. She’d never ask him to give up something so important._

_His inquiry made Ailani tense, so slight Naomi could have imagined it. They waited with bated breath until Kanoa finally spoke, eyes intent on Vahid and expression unreadable._

_Vahid made a low noise of pain, head bowing briefly before he returned his attention to Kanoa. Naomi didn’t understand what he’d said but she knew grief when she saw it._

_“Prime Sargon is dead,” Vahid quietly explained to her. “He passed twenty solar cycles previous. Poisoned, they suspect, by someone within the palace. The Nakano were blamed.”_

_“Blamed? They don’t claim any credit?”_

_“The dragon council discovered two Nakano clan members in the palace, both with vials of the poison on them.” He glanced briefly at Kanoa. “The Chief did not order a strike against the dragons- in fact, he believes the humans found at the palace were Nakano clansmen who had vanished only months before Sargon’s death.”_

_Naomi sucked in a breath. “A set up?”_

_“They assume so, though the motive is unknown. The Nakano and dragons coexisted in relative peace until twenty five solar cycles ago, when members of the clan began to disappear. They left the White City behind the falls, as it was too close to Nova Solis, and moved here, to Kailua.”_

_“Who rules the dragons now?”_

_“Darius, the eldest. His sister Soraya is the general of the dragon army and top advisor to the Prime.” Vahid scowled. “He says that the Prime’s chief magic user also died mysteriously only months after Sargon’s death.”_

_Naomi raised her brows. “Ah. That’s… concerning.”_

_“Most concerning,” he agreed, a note of worry in his voice._

_She knew they were in a precarious position- a dragon seeking the same royals potentially involved in the disappearance of Nakano clan members, one who’d appeared out of thin air carrying a magic user with strange gifts. Their suspicion was warranted._

_But obviously the Nakano were willing to hear them out, to listen to their tale and treat them as unexpected if somewhat unwelcome guests. And, more importantly, they shared information that Naomi and Vahid needed about a situation they would have walked into blind otherwise._

_Chief Kanoa tipped his chin at Naomi and spoke again. Naomi caught the Old Persian word for Sentinel, the title Vahid had affectionately called her since they very first day they’d met. Vahid’s response was brusque and bordering on impolite. Defensive, even, but whatever he said made Ailani’s brows raise._

_“He says few have the nerve to call themselves Sentinel anymore,” Vahid translated with an expression of disdain. “The title has negative connotations since the separation of humankind and dragons. Humans did not wish to be forever ruled by dragons and began to break off into clans. The few Sentinels that came with the dragons tried to force them to stay.”_

_Naomi’s mouth tightened. She didn’t want to consider the implications of a spark working against the comparatively helpless humans they’d sworn to protect. “What happened?”_

_“Revolt,” Vahid said quietly. “The sparks died off one by one, and the title was stained forever to the human clans.”_

_Naomi let the hurt come. Grief that more of her kind were dead. Sorrow and rage that they’d lost their way and hurt innocents in the process. Fierce desire to do better, to prove that her kind could live up to their role of guardian._

_And just like that, she was invested._

~*~ 

A passing man- one of the forgers, based off the ash streaked across his skin and his charred clothing- called a reminder that the clan would meet for a dinner shortly in celebration of the handful of youth who’d joined the ranks of the warriors. Naomi promised they’d be there, grateful for the many citizens of Kailua that went out of their way to ensure Naomi and Vahid felt welcomed. 

Naomi made a beeline for the wide-brimmed bowl of water in their small house, wiping away the face paints that mimicked the patterns of a venomous reptilian creature that lived in the deepest parts of the forest, one that many dangerous beings avoided. 

Vahid handed her a cloth to dry her face when she’d finished, pausing to swipe his thumb gently beneath her eye to remove a streak of paint she’d missed. 

“You enjoyed flying today.” 

She smiled, leaning into his touch. “I knew you were there to catch me.” 

“Always, my love.” 

He kissed her softly, lingering on her bottom lip until she chased him, hands sliding into his thick black hair as he hummed into the kiss. A warm palm slid beneath her shirt and up her spine, brushing over her phoenix tattoo and making it rustle absently against her skin. 

A series of loud bangs on the door interrupted them before they could get carried away. One of the Nakano teenagers shouted excitedly through the sleek wood door. She heard them dart off to bellow at their neighbors next about the approaching celebration. 

Vahid was grinning. “I take it they’re excited for the events tonight.” 

Naomi rolled her eyes fondly- the teenagers had been the first and most enthusiastic Nakano clan members to welcome her and Vahid, fascinated with the spark and dragon from another world. Plus, they’d taught her all the best swear words in their language. 

She and Vahid dressed in their celebration finery, gifted by the Weavers shortly after they’d arrived so that no one looked out of place for the Nakano ceremonies. Naomi’s pants were soft and loose, as brightly colored as the shirt that stretched below her collarbones and left her upper chest and shoulders bare. 

Weaver magic wasn’t like anything she’d seen before. They possessed a mastery over cloth that meant they could create clothes and armor with an insulting amount of ease, but more importantly, they could weave small charms or protective magics into their creations. 

Some of it went over Naomi’s head- especially once the Weavers got technical about their alien materials- but she discovered that the Weavers’ magic would hold fast to the cloth to create faint illusions, hide the wearer from dragons, or provide an extra layer of defense should they meet someone with sharper teeth than theirs. 

There were limits, of course, as their magic was strictly anchored to the clothing or armor itself, but it was an ingenious use of their smaller magics. Still, Naomi wondered if she could provide a rune or sigil to take it a step further, provide an extra kick that the Weavers didn’t possess the strength for. Then again, other magic users in this world regarded her with suspicion. She doubted they’d want to reveal any secrets to her- everything she’d learned was known world-wide.

She reached for the rest of her ceremonial wear, feeling a slight buzz from the magic woven into it designed to regulate her body temperature. 

A cerulean robe tied over one shoulder and fell across her chest and down to a tapered point at mid thigh, tied with a golden sash at the waist. Silk shoes with thick, sturdy soles went on her feet and a necklace of small bones- remnants of her first raptor kill- around her neck. Her hair was already in tight braids, brushing against her bare shoulders with every movement. 

Vahid wore loose pants and leather boots, foregoing an undershirt in favor of the thin black robe with flowing sleeves that reached his elbows. Golden ties fastened the robe closed halfway up his chest, baring brown skin and a faint silver scar in the center of his breastbone. Naomi traced it, a habit now, and felt a chill at the reminder of how close she’d come to losing him. 

He caught her hand, eyes warm and reassuring until she shook off the heavy mood. Sayali woofed impatiently at the door and they followed the Arcos to the center of the city. 

Ailani, dressed in exquisite dress robes and pants that matched Naomi’s, gestured for them to join her near the center of the crowded streets. Light had faded fast, but the glow from torches and mirrored moonlight lit the city beautifully. 

Even more incredible, though, were the tattoos on Nakano clan members’ skin that glowed a soft blue-green in the darkness. Ink made from an underwater plant that grew in the deepest parts of the river appeared blue-black in the daylight, but it's true colors illuminated in darkness and beneath the water.

Many Nakano weapons were also infused with the dye, the bone white hilts paired with a blue-green blade that glowed when they were in the depths of the forest or water. 

Chief Kanoa presented the youth who’d joined the ranks of the warriors, three total, with weapons forged from the bones of their first kill. Two received curved blades made from raptor ribs and claws, the bird of prey’s own talons making the best weapon against their kind. The third had hunted a felid creature not unlike a jaguar that silently stalked the canopy of the forest with a ferocity that few could match. They received a glove fitted with the felid’s claws made from the hide of the vicious creature. 

Their families watched with pride as they accepted their weapons and new homes- all of them of age and successful in their coming-of-age rites. They would move out of their parents’ homes after one last night before becoming fully adult citizens. 

Their homes, like Naomi’s and Vahid’s, were considered property of the clan as a whole. No individual owned their home, but considered it a blessing to be cared for with appreciation and respect for the clan’s property. Instead, Chief Kanoa and Ailani assigned homes as they saw fit to provide for their people and ensure everyone had shelter. 

The Nakano, like most human clans in this world, were a trade-based people. The citizens spent years in different apprenticeships with many of the craftsmen and women in the city, learning a variety of trades until they discovered what they wished to pursue as a permanent trade. 

Everyone in the city of Kailua contributed to the clan as a whole, a refreshing change from the nightmares of capitalism back on Earth. No one starved here, no one was left to suffer and die on the streets or left without healthcare. Their society’s principles revolved around taking care of each other and providing for their people. 

Naomi smelled the celebratory dinner and heard her stomach grumble in response to the scents of spiced raptor meat and fish, along with vegetables from one of the floating gardens grown along the river near the city boundaries. 

The youth ate with Kanoa and Ailani tonight, a place of honor for them at the Chief’s table. Naomi and Vahid joined them shortly after. 

Certain foods, she’d learned, dragons could not digest. But humans were able to eat from fruits and plants that made other Beings- the term for supernaturals in this world- very sick. 

Between the technically poisonous foods, their lethal canid companions, and the frequent death defying adventures, Naomi found herself amused at the human instincts that appeared to be universal. 

Climb the thing, eat the thing, pet the thing. 

Humans were all the same- unbelievably resilient, all possessing the central concept of _no surrender,_ and the ability to flourish in impossible conditions. It provided a welcome familiarity in this strange and dangerous world. 

Ailani listened patiently to the youth regale her with the tales of their hunts, even though she’d been there for each hunt and subsequent kill. As the second in command, it was Ailani’s responsibility to ensure the safety of their youth on their hunts and intervene if their life was in imminent danger. 

There was no shame in failure to the Nakano, and they valued the lives of their people more than a successful battle against vicious creatures that killed experienced hunters with regularity.

Vahid found himself interrogated by another youth about his battles on Earth- specifically the Leviathan, though who the hell knew how they’d found out about that- so Naomi settled into her cushion and listened to the songs from the performers. 

Wooden drums made with the hides of raptors and other creatures living in the forest echoed through the stone city walls and back again in a feedback loop that felt deep and wild, made her heart race in excitement with every strike of the drum. 

She felt the wild of the music in her bones, an urgent thrill zinging through her blood as the beat picked up and the ceremonial leaders began their dance around the giant stone pit where the embers still glowed as the night chill crept in. 

The air smelled of the fading smoke drifting lazily towards the black sky. Bright flashes of color from the dancers’ clothing caught her eye as they danced and danced until gradually the songs shifted from joyful to something darker, more subdued. 

_Oh my, rebel child_

_another died today_

_oh my, rebel child_

_the sun is gone away_

_oh my, rebel child_

_watch your back tonight_

_oh my, rebel child_

_you might lose your light_

The flickering torchlight and lingering smoke from the nearby cooking fires added to the ominous atmosphere as the melody faded, hung in the air for a few prolonged beats, and then another song started. 

But she was still stuck on the message of the lyrics, the warnings hidden within every aspect of the Nakano clans’ lives. The strain on their faces when they heard the beat of wings, the quiet grief for those they’d lost to unknown fates. 

Something was amiss in the new City of Dragons, that much she knew for certain. The only question was what they could do about it. 

She and Vahid had stayed here while he healed and then, by the time he was no longer grounded, they’d become so wrapped up in the Nakano clan and learning everything they could that the idea of leaving was unconsciously tabled. 

But there was a chance that she and Vahid could help these people, more than just hunting with them or using her magic to assist with heavy lifting and warding. And they owed it to the Nakano to try. 

Vahid noticed her contemplative silence, but let her be until she was ready to talk about it. She let him wrap an arm around her waist and guide her back to their home as she tipped her head back to peer up at the hint of brilliant stars so very high above. None of the constellations were familiar. 

Sayali elected to remain outside, sprawling out over the cool stone porch. Naomi bumped into Vahid just inside the bedroom doorway and decided she really liked the lick of heat from that simple touch. 

He skimmed his thumb over the curve of her ear while he talked, pleased, about how Sayali had deigned to accept food from him earlier, seemingly oblivious to Naomi’s visceral reaction to his touch. 

His attention was elsewhere until she pinned him to the bed. Startled amusement quickly shifted to heat as she straddled him, discarding her robe with impatient motions as she leaned down and kissed him.

She tugged his robe open and slid her hands up the lean lines of his abdomen and chest, enjoying the softness and heat of his skin. His quick, clever fingers undid the ties of her pants so he could slide a hand in and down. She gasped at the jolt of pleasure from his touch, biting her lip to muffle the noises rising in her throat. 

Impatient now, she rolled off of him to yank her pants off and toss them aside, her shirt following moments later while he stripped his own pants off. The silk robe stayed on, to her amusement. He’d always liked the feel of silk against his skin. 

Naomi reached for the small vial of plant-based oil- safe to use as lube, according to Ailani’s dryly amused recommendation- kept close to their bed for exactly this reason. She fumbled with it and swore vehemently in a jumble of English and Nakano that made Vahid laugh as he tugged the vial from her grip. 

He slicked his hand and stroked his cock, silver eyes flashing in the dark of their room when she impatiently nudged his hand aside and lowered herself onto him. Her fingers curled into his skin at the feel of him inside of her, a moan tearing free from her throat when she swiveled her hips experimentally. 

Vahid groaned, hands clamped on her hips as every muscle in his body went taut. She grinned down at him, her blood feeling like sweet syrup, exquisite jolts of pleasure zipping through her with every twist of her hips. She let her head fall back as she moved, chasing her building climax until it broke, Vahid following only seconds later. 

She collapsed onto him, grateful for his warmth as the sweat cooled on her skin. He felt her shiver and let a little more of his magic loose to warm the room. One hand dropped to her thigh to trace his fingers absently over the runes tattooed from hip to ankle, fascinated when they reacted to his magic and glowed gold at his touch. 

When she’d caught her breath, Naomi propped her elbows on his chest and stared down at him. “I was thinking.” 

He hummed in question, warm and relaxed and sleepy beneath her. 

“It might be time for us to go to Nova Solis.” 

He tensed in surprise, the sleep chased from his body. “What makes you say that?” 

“I think we can do more good there than here,” she said, then hesitated before adding, “And I think you need to see them for yourself.” 

Vahid looked away. She waited him out, careful not to pressure him if he wasn’t ready to talk about the information that had eaten at him for months now. 

“I am afraid of what we’ll find,” he finally admitted. “If the people I remember and loved are changed.” 

“We all change,” she pointed out. “That’s to be expected. But you can’t know unless we go find out for ourselves.” 

“And the Nakano? They have been very kind to us, accepted us as their guests and friends.” 

“We aren’t abandoning them. I think we could actually help them more by passing along information about their missing clan members and other things they need.” 

A few Nakano risked the climb in the White City to get closer to Nova Solis, where a small group of humans smuggled them dragonglass and occasionally people from the city. 

The Nakano people traded with other human clans scattered around the continent, helped by trade ships that carried their goods across the seas and skies. Naomi knew the trade ships arrived where the river met the sea miles behind the city of Kailua but had never been herself.

The trade ships were technically manned by pirates, Ailani had explained, but they carried the human clans’ goods for a reasonable price. Some were even trustworthy, though the rivalry between captains could result in a battle and stolen goods. 

But the Nakano’s chosen captain, Ailani reassured them, was the best of them all. She’d yet to lose a single haul, known throughout the human traders and pirates as _The Revenant,_ a ghost risen straight from the seas. 

Naomi was dying of curiosity, but the pirate captain certainly lived up to her title. She’d yet to meet the trade ship or its captain. 

“I worry about you as well,” Vahid said, drawing her attention back to him. “If the High Mage of Nova Solis _was_ murdered, then you could also be put at risk.” 

“We can handle it,” she said calmly. His mouth tightened. She rested her palm over his heart and told him again, “Vahid. Whatever it is, we can handle it.” 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “We can.” Then he cracked an eye open. “But you have to tell Ailani that we’re leaving.” 

Naomi blanched. 

Great. This would be fun. 

~*~ 

It was not fun. 

The formidable warrior took the news with as much grace as expected. But Chief Kanoa tempered her disapproval and anger with a few words of approval for their plan. 

“You never intended to remain with us permanently,” he said over the waves lapping the riverbank in the early morning light. “And I agree that there are things happening in Nova Solis that we do not understand. Humans that, Nakano or not, may be in danger in the city.” 

“We can smuggle them out,” Naomi said insistently, directed mostly at Ailani’s scowling face. “Get them to safety if they need it, and hopefully figure out what’s caused so much turmoil in Nova Solis- including why dragons are kidnapping humans.” 

Ailani frowned severely at the water for a long moment before admitting, “We have a few Nakano inside the palace. Willing servants to the dragon royals.” 

“Spies?” Vahid asked, brow furrowed. 

Ailani shrugged. “If necessary. We can get word to them that you two are working with us.”

Naomi heard a thread of doubt in her voice. “Ailani, we want to help your people. The Nakano took us in, fed and clothed us, welcomed us as friends. Let us do what we can to return that kindness.” 

“Infiltrating dragon politics and rivalries is far more dangerous than our kindness.” 

“It’s not about comparing offers,” Naomi countered. “But by how the gift is valued by each of us. Your people saved our lives-” after shooting Vahid down, sure, but that was, like, eighty percent forgiven- “and taught us about a world that would have killed us otherwise. Now we’re going to return the favor as best we can.” 

Ailani continued to scowl. Naomi threw up her hands in exasperation. “That’s what friends do!” 

Kanoa had a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth as the women stared each other down. Finally, Ailani relented. “Fine. But if you get yourself killed, the Nakano will forever remember you as the idiot who tried to talk sense into a bunch of dragons.” 

Naomi shrugged. “I’ll risk it.” 

“Also, you cannot leave Sayali behind. She has already lost one bonded human. Another loss would damage her irreparably.” 

Vahid stepped in now that the worst of the warrior’s temper had faded. “If she will permit me to carry her, I can fly her with us.” 

Ailani nodded sharply. “For Naomi, she will.” 

“We should discuss what you will tell the dragons,” Kanoa said gravely. “If they know you’ve been here for as long as you have, they could be suspicious. It may put you both in danger if they are still suspicious of or angry with the Nakano.” 

“What if we tell them we’ve only been here for a month or so?” Naomi suggested. The months here were longer, closer to thirty eight or forty days each. The days were longer, too, and the humans mapped out 15 months per solar cycle by following the approximate menstrual cycles of the human women. 

In all, each solar cycle was nearly two earth years. This world had extended seasons as well, and Naomi was wary of the approaching winter. 

“If you found an Arcos shortly after landing, one who’d lost her previous bonded and attached herself to you, and she led you back to the Nakano…” Ailani frowned thoughtfully. “That story could work.” 

Kanoa added, “You’ll have to hide your knowledge of the dragon and Nakano languages, but that can work in your favor.” The Nakano had taught her both the lower dialect of the dragon’s language that had evolved from Old Persian as well as the upper speech of the highly educated royals. 

Naomi took a breath, released it slowly. “Then I guess it’s time.” 

It didn’t take long to pack, only a few spare minutes to repack the bags they’d brought from earth- with a few key additions, such as the Nakano blades and her cloak. 

The goodbyes took far longer. They were both surprised and touched by the Nakano clan’s genuine sorrow that they were leaving, but Naomi saw understanding in their eyes, too, and faith that she and Vahid wouldn’t abandon them. 

Ailani and Kadir led them back to the place they’d first landed. Naomi admired their confidence as they guided her and Vahid through the thick jungle and dark caverns. Humans had terraformed this place, this incredible world of theirs. 

They carefully avoided the darkest corners of the forest, the deepest caves, and Naomi wondered if she imagined the way the shadows stirred at their passing, hints of eldritch beings roaming the depths of this world. 

Sayali sniffed suspiciously at those corners and promptly herded Naomi insistently away, flicking her tapered ears against her skull in distaste. 

“You’ll be smart,” Ailani lectured as they neared their destination. “The dragon court is a nest of vipers, and they’ll root out any weaknesses to turn to their advantage.” 

“We will.” 

She shot Vahid a dark look. “Keep your spark close, dragon. Those who seek power will see her for what she is.” Naomi wasn’t sure she wanted to know what exactly she “was” in Ailani’s eyes. Dragon food? 

Ailani continued. “Dragons like their class system- they all want to rule ones they consider lesser.” 

“Fools,” Kadir muttered, then looked apologetically at Vahid. 

Ailani sniffed in agreement. “Even the greatest of us return to feed the earth eventually. And she is always hungry.” 

“What an optimistic parting note,” Naomi said on a sigh. “Ailani, we’ll get word to you as soon as we can.” 

“The Nakano in the palace will find you soon after your arrival.” Ailani watched them with fathomless green eyes, her red hair piled once more on top of her head. The painted markings on her face, combined with her formidable size, made her the most intimidating person Naomi had ever encountered, even after months of knowing her. 

But fondness was there, too, a reluctant appreciation and even admiration for the woman who was fierce and unrelenting in her loyalty to her clan and chief. And Naomi had earned the respect she received in return. It left them as not quite friends, but more than acquaintances. 

Allies, joined in their goal to make the lives of the Nakano people better. Safer. 

“Long life and fair health to you,” Ailani said finally, honoring them with the Nakano blessing. She smiled, the tiniest curve of her mouth, and vanished into the trees. Kadir followed with a parting wave. 

Naomi watched them go. But shortly after they’d disappeared from sight she frowned, looking around in confusion as a quiet buzzing noise filled her ears. She’d heard it once before when they’d crashed here months ago, but they hadn’t returned to this place since then. 

Vahid noticed her distraction and gently touched her arm. “Naomi? Is something wrong?” 

Not necessarily wrong, she could tell, but… _weird._ The noise was faint and garbled, making it far too difficult to trace it to the source. 

She shook her head, mildly annoyed when it didn’t clear the buzzing, and brushed it off. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.” He didn’t seem to believe her, but they had bigger things to worry about than weird noises in the even weirder jungle. 

“Let’s go,” she told him, calling Sayali over. “Remember, you have to cooperate, at least until we get to the city. Got it?” Sayali watched her and gave a solemn huff of agreement. 

Vahid shifted without further delay, crouching helpfully so she could tie their bags onto his back and then climb on. Sayali growled quietly when he clutched her between his front paws but subsided when she caught sight of Naomi’s exasperated expression. 

And then Vahid spread his magnificent wings, launched into the air, and carried them to the City of Dragons. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to start doing Six Sentence Sundays because it seems like fun! I'll post six sentences from the next chapter of this fic and will (assuming I remember) link it in the end notes with each update. If I forget you can find me on tumblr at i-like-plan-m :) 
> 
> [Six Sentence Sunday - Darcy: Chapter 3](https://i-like-plan-m.tumblr.com/post/611343082732011520/six-sentence-sunday)
> 
> *song credit for this chapter is N by Jaden Smith


	6. Darcy: Hard Truths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I leaked feelings all over this chapter, sorry

**5: HARD TRUTHS**

_**Darcy** _

Darcy was uncomfortably aware that she was losing the standoff. Her opponent took no prisoners, prepared to pull out all the stops necessary to win. 

She narrowed her eyes. Brown eyes framed by a cascade of blonde lashes widened piteously, bottom lip wobbling. A threat, clearly. 

It worked. 

“Fine.” Darcy offered Isobel a third cookie from the bakery box, sighing when Isobel immediately grinned and snatched it away. 

Boyd shook his head from across the room, disappointed. “Weak, Lewis.” 

“Oh, come on! She gets everyone with that face.” Darcy poked at Isobel’s cheek, prompting a giggle and a spray of cookie crumbs all over the table. 

“You’re supposed to be keeping her occupied so I can work, not stuffing her full of sugar an hour before you abandon me.” 

Fatherhood was a good look for Boyd, who loved his hellion of a daughter with all his heart. But three year old werewolves were a force to be reckoned with, and Erica was at the store doing damage control after their trip. He needed backup, so he called Darcy. 

Isobel, of sticky fingers and broad grins, knew she had Darcy wrapped around her finger, and thus negotiated extra cookies after lunch along with sugar-filled juice that Darcy was sure to regret. 

“What are you doing, anyway? I thought you did the books at the end of the month.” 

“I do,” he replied absently, focused on his laptop. “This is for a Master’s program I wanted to do. Did you know you could teach at a college level with a masters degree?” 

Darcy wiped Isobel’s hands and mouth- and hair and clothes and shoes, Jesus- clean before releasing her from the high chair. “You want to teach? I didn’t know that.” 

Boyd shrugged a shoulder, ducking his head in the way he did whenever he was embarrassed. “Yeah, I think so. I keep helping our college employees with their math homework, and I actually like it. It’d be fund to teach it for real, now that the store is stable.” 

“And you’re great at math, anyway, so why not?” 

“I mean, I beat out Lydia in calc freshman year, so I’m pretty sure I can do anything.” 

“Seriously?” Darcy asked, awed. Lydia was ferociously competitive in high school. That wouldn’t have gone over well. 

“Yeah, but don’t bring it up. She’s still pissed, and I don’t need the Seelie Queen after me.” 

Darcy snorted a laugh. Lydia had gotten a  _ tiny _ bit better about conceding defeat, but she still considered her failures to be personal faults. 

“Daddy.” Isobel waited solemnly at his knees until he looked at her, and then flashed her eyes at him, a quick flare of beta-yellow. Her control was astonishing, Darcy mused as Isobel’s little face turned expectantly up at him. 

Boyd grinned and flashed his eyes back, and Isobel dissolved into a giggling heap on the floor. 

“This is why you aren’t in preschool,” he said fondly, poking her with a sock-covered foot while she play-growled and snapped her teeth. 

“She goes to daycare!” Darcy defended her goddaughter, who’d gotten distracted by a toy shoved under the couch and had vanished somewhere underneath. 

There was a thump followed by a muffled, irritated growl. “Don’t scratch the couch, Izzie,” Boyd warned. Another quiet growl, one that subsided once she was able to crawl back out again with a plastic T-rex clutched in her hands. 

Boyd instinctively kept half an eye on his daughter as she galloped over to the shelves of toys, digging through the boxes to find whatever she was looking for and tossing the unwanted ones over her shoulder with great enthusiasm. 

“Daycare with other supernatural babies hardly counts,” he refuted. “No one there’s gonna panic if she manages a half-shift or flashes her eyes at someone.” 

The few blocks surrounding Iron Heights was a supernatural hub, supe-owned businesses finding their footing easily with so many of their own kind in one place. The daycare was most popular, managed by three werewolves and two druids that could identify and resolve any amount of discomfort in a non-human child. 

Baby screaming for no reason? One of the adult ‘wolves could scent the terrible smell, too, and get rid of it. Fae child refusing to eat? One of the druids could identify trace elements of iron in the utensils and replace them. The other druid had a gift for soothing distressed people, able to calm a panicked heartbeat or relieve a headache. 

Slowly, carefully, they were building a  _ system, _ a community designed to help each other in a society rigged to hate anything and everything outside of it’s very limited definition of ‘normal.’ 

“Sure it does,” she argued, cleaning up the rest of their lunch and shoving the leftovers in the fridge. “It’s not her fault human babies are so fragile.” 

Though admittedly baby werewolves tended to be tiny wrecking balls with no sense of self preservation. 

Isobel climbed into Boyd’s lap, leaving him to juggle his kid and laptop with an alarmed expression. He finally gave up and settled the laptop on the arm of the couch to give Izzie his full attention. 

Isobel poked his cheek and he caught her hand, smacking an absent kiss to her palm out of habit as he tried to read over her head. 

He cocked his head right as Darcy’s building wards flared to mark someone’s entrance. 

“Who do you hear?” He asked Isobel, who squinted at the door and went very still. 

Heartbeats, her ‘wolves had explained, could easily be distinguished when you spent a great amount of time with someone. For young werewolves, it became just another layer of recognizing the person, just like scent or their voice. 

And for a baby werewolf who’d grown up with an entire pack, Isobel quickly learned to identify them by sound, too. 

“’Tiles!” She declared as footsteps reached the top of the stairs. 

“Good job,” Boyd said warmly, sweeping a hand over her hair. She beamed at him, thrilled with her success. 

Darcy heard Stiles’s apartment door close behind him. She hadn’t had a chance to speak to him about his reaction to Fisk’s name at Julian’s death day celebration, by which she meant he was quite possibly avoiding her for some reason and she hadn’t managed to corner him yet. 

“I need to talk to him,” she said. 

He must have heard something in her voice, because Boyd glanced up. “Trouble?” 

“We’ll see.” She leaned over the back of the couch to smack a kiss to both their cheeks before leaving, and as the door closed behind her she heard Isobel say hopefully, “Cookie?” 

Stiles’s door opened down the hall and she schooled her face into something tight and concerned, quickening her own pace. He greeted her absently, then frowned. 

“Everything okay?” 

“Got a second?” She said instead, tipping her head to her apartment door. 

“Sure.” He followed her into the apartment, worried right up until she quickly shut the door behind him and crossed her arms with an even stare straight out of the Hale playbook. 

“Great! Now spit it out.” 

He huffed in exasperation, but she saw him eye the window thoughtfully. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Yes, you do. And I don’t know  _ why _ you’re avoiding the discussion about Wilson Fisk and whatever you know about him, but I’m damn well going to find out.” He looked at the window with longing. “And if you jump out of the window, I’m telling Lydia about the vase.” 

He glared. “You wouldn’t.” 

Darcy glowered right back. “Try me.” 

Stiles made an angry sound and tossed his bag on the counter, throwing himself bodily into the chair in a similar manner to Isobel in the middle of a tantrum. 

_ “Fine.  _ You’re the worst.” He scowled. “I ran across Fisk when I was walking through Hell’s Kitchen a couple months ago, trying to track down whoever’s kicking the shit out of people down there.”

“And?” 

“He’s definitely human,” Stiles admitted. “But something about him set me on edge. I didn’t like the feel of him, so I started looking into him and his business.” 

“Find anything?” 

“Yeah, no, he’s so squeaky clean that someone’s definitely covering shit up. Also I’m pretty sure he’s trying to take over Hell’s Kitchen.” 

Darcy ran a hand through her hair. “Stiles, why didn’t you bring this up earlier?” 

“Because I don’t have anything concrete, Darce. I don’t  _ have _ anything to show you, just a gut feeling.” 

“Which you know I trust more than my own,” she rebuked gently. 

Stiles ducked his head to study the floor, hands tapping anxiously on his knees as he considered his next words. “You know, when we were kids, after I found out about werewolves but before I discovered my own magic, I still felt like something was…  _ different _ about me.” 

Darcy sat across from him, giving him her full attention. His mouth twisted ruefully as he continued, “I brushed it off as wishful thinking, you know? Wanting to be special like all my friends were.” His tone was a little wistful, and it made her ache for that whiskey-eyed boy scrambling to keep up with the rest of them.

“But eventually I decided, hey, I’m pretty smart, a cop’s kid, good at sneaking around. I can put my brain to use instead, planning and plotting, twisting people around to protect my friends. Learning to think ten steps ahead, keeping notes and maps to work out motives of others, anyone who wanted you or the Hales dead.

“All eyes were on you guys, you know? On the magic and the werewolves, not on me. So I thought, that’s okay. I’d use that against them, too, their assumptions. Overlooking the human could be the end of them- a nice, ironic end, right? 

“Thing is, Darce, when I found my magic, I didn’t stop being that guy. I wake up in cold sweats all the time because I’m afraid I’ve overlooked something or someone who wants us dead. I’ve got a  _ kid _ to protect, one who’s already lost his own family because we weren’t fast enough.”

“You tend to the edges, Stiles,” she said when he fell silent, reaching out to tangle their fingers together, “and you keep us safe. But you’ve always refused help. I don’t like seeing you run yourself into the ground on a list of potential threats.”

“I’m so scared of messing up,” he whispered. “But it’s hard to know when I’m just being a paranoid bastard.” 

“All the time.” He rolled his eyes, but she leaned forward to kiss his forehead before he could pull away. “And that’s how you’ve kept us all alive for so long. Trust yourself to recognize danger, and let us manage the threats with you. Even if it’s just someone who makes you uncomfortable. You’ve got better danger instincts than any of the werewolves I know.” 

He laughed and she leaned over and ruffled his hair, pleased to see that the metaphorical weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Anyway, what’d you find in Hell’s Kitchen besides a suspicious businessman? Which are a dime a dozen, so that’s not really a groundbreaking discovery, Stilinski.” 

He batted her away from his hair and made a face. “Just some asshole who calls himself Daredevil, but nothing definitive. I might send one of the ‘wolves to that part of town, see if we can’t track him down that way before he gets somebody killed.” 

“So no magical traces, either?” Stiles shook his head. She hummed thoughtfully. “So maybe a powered human, then.” 

“That’d be my guess. Lots of ‘em take after the Avengers, making trouble.” 

“Wanting to make a difference,” she pointed out. How could either spark judge anyone for having their same motivation? 

“Well, I’m pretty sure this guy’s working alone, and one person can manage that area without some sort of support.” 

“We’ll keep an eye on it, then,” Darcy said, standing and pinning him in place with a near-perfect copy of Talia’s sternly disappointed look. “Next time don’t make me ambush you. We love you, and we don’t want you stressing yourself into an early grave. Ask for help.  _ Accept _ the help. Or else I’m looping Peter in to keep him occupied.” 

Stiles blanched. Yeah, that’d be an effective threat. A bored, scheming Peter rarely meant good things for anyone. 

“Good. Now, why are you back? Don’t you have a class to teach or something?” He worked at NYU, researching folklore across numerous cultures to delve into the bestiaries of ancient times. 

Occasionally it brought up something useful, like how throwing rosemary and salt on a lamia  _ before _ setting it on fire would kill it. Either that or he’d accidentally translated an ancient Greek recipe. They couldn’t be sure until they had a chance to test the theory. 

Stiles picked up a note from beside his bag and waved it. “I wrote something important down on a sticky note so I wouldn’t forget, and then I forgot the sticky note. But yeah, I need to get back.” 

“Keep me updated about Fisk.”

“Or you’ll sic Peter on me, yeah, I know.” He smiled despite himself and left. 

And if in the meantime she texted Peter and told him to keep an eye on Stiles, well, who could blame her?

~*~ 

_ The room was warm and soft and cozy, a haven against the fierce snowstorm raging outside. Darcy shivered and tucked herself closer to her mother’s side, curled up beneath a thick knitted blanket in their tiny apartment.  _

_ They’d only been in Missouri a few weeks, having left Tennessee in a rush that meant the bad people had found them again. Darcy didn’t know who they were, just that they wanted to hurt her and her mom for having magic.  _

_ Magic that she wasn’t even allowed to  _ use. _ She thought she could feel it sometimes, something hot and strong in her chest, but her mom’s magic always pushed it back down before she could reach for it. It left her restless and grumpy, like an unreachable itch just beneath her skin.  _

_ But tonight, with the rare treat of hot cocoa in her cup- with marshmallows, even!- Darcy felt that elusive sense of safety wrap around her.  _

_ “Are there other people like us?” She asked, breaking the comfortable silence. Her mom glanced down at her and set the third-hand laptop she’d purchased with cash a few cities back aside.  _

_ “With magic, you mean?”  _

_ Darcy nodded.  _

_ “There used to be a lot of us.” Anna Lewis smiled sadly, something wistful and pained in her eyes that Darcy was starting to see a lot lately. She wiggled closer, clinging to her threadbare sweatshirt, and felt relieved when her mom’s smile lightened.  _

_ “But not now?” _

_ “Not anymore,” her mom sighed. “A lot of them died when the Fae crossed over- it took their Queens some time to stabilize the gates. But there are still a rare few like us, scattered all across the world.”  _

_ Darcy’s eyes widened. “How do you know?”  _

_ Her mom looked at her thoughtfully for a moment before standing, crossing the room and shuffling through their bag. She returned holding a folded piece of paper with torn edges and scribbled notes, unfolding it to reveal a map of the world.  _

_ She traced a nail bitten to the quick along a white line. “See this? It’s called a ley line. They’re made of the earth’s natural energies, and they hold a lot of power.”  _

_ Darcy peered closer. “There’s so many!”  _

_ “Yes. See how they come together?” Her mom tapped a cluster of white lines in South America, one made of ley lines from all over the world, across oceans and miles of land. “We’re all connected, Darcy. Remember that. We have magic that makes us strong but also very different. So if you ever feel all alone, just remember that- we’re all connected.”  _

_ “We’re all connected,” Darcy repeated obediently. She peered up at her mom. “But I won’t be alone, Mom. I’ll have you.”  _

_ Anna Lewis swallowed hard, eyes closing in a desperate prayer as she pressed a kiss to her daughter’s hair and held her close. “I hope so, love. I hope so.”  _

Darcy woke with a tight throat, her eyes burning from the hazy memory. She stared at the ceiling and pressed her trembling hands to her stomach, felt the softness of her bed and blankets that made her distantly ache for a thick, scratchy blanket and a purple sweatshirt with holes in the hem. 

She was so different than that younger version of herself. Older. Wiser. No longer alone. 

She wondered who her mom would have been, had they both reached the Hales before Kate Argent found them. 

Would she have loved Darcy’s pack the way she did? Would those sharp, bitter edges have smoothed away, without an axe over her neck and her daughter’s life on the line? 

Even more pressing- could things have gone differently, if Darcy had also had her magic, if she’d  _ helped _ her mom fight Kate rather than hide? 

She wondered if this was the common thread for her kind. A shared grief over lost mothers and fathers. A generation of orphans. 

The clock moved steadily past midnight, making her wince. She wouldn’t be getting any more sleep tonight, but a glance at Bucky, sleeping deeply for once, had her climbing carefully out of bed. Her restlessness would inevitably wake him, and he needed the sleep more than she did. 

Grief and the sharp ache of loss made her head go uncomfortably quiet, like a fog had settled across the landscape of her mind, muffling thoughts and emotions until she felt numb. 

She collected her gym bag from the closet by the front door and left a note for Bucky on the kitchen counter so he wouldn’t worry. Her hallway was dark, but there was light and the soft murmur of voices behind Laura and Santi’s door. 

She thought about knocking, but decided she didn’t want to talk until her head was clear. And the best way to do that was kick the shit out of something. 

The gym across the street was nearly exclusive to supernaturals, bought a couple years back by a group of friends wanting a space tailored for non-humans. 

Water nymphs and water Fae descendants taught swimming lessons to all ages and species, as well as resistance training and physical therapy. Werewolves and other shifters monitored the weight room designed for those with super strength, and a handful ran the martial arts and boxing lessons. 

The sauna and the spa staff were empaths and druids, some with therapy licenses if the supernatural needed a non-human counselor. 

It was a safe haven for supes in the city, protected by complex wards put together by Darcy and Stiles to keep humans away. 

It was also, conveniently, 24 hours, which was especially appreciated by the nightlife or those with insomnia in need of an escape. 

Darcy waved to the nymph at the front desk and made a beeline for the boxing ring, needing something tangible under her hands to remind herself of where she was,  _ who _ she was. 

She tied her hair back and wrapped her hands, selecting a bag in the far corner, and then ran through a brief warmup before releasing all of her hurt and anger into the punching bag. 

Her arms ached, so she backed off and added a few vicious kicks into the pattern. She lost track of time, just kept moving until sweat dripped down her back and face and she started to become aware of other people in the gym, giving her space but staying close enough that she wasn’t left alone. 

Damn empaths, she thought with a flicker of reluctant appreciation. 

Finally, she staggered back, breathing like she’d just run a marathon, and collapsed onto the thick mat. She was splayed out, trying to catch her breath, when a lithe form settled at her side. 

“You know,” Allison said thoughtfully, dark hair braided away from her face and sweaty enough to suggest she’d been working out as well, “the thing about trauma is that it impacts you  _ later, _ rather than at the time of the event.” 

Darcy found she didn’t have any words, other than a vague thought of whether or not Allison could read minds. She said nothing, just stared at the ceiling and let her sister talk. 

“Despite what people say, time doesn’t  _ fix _ it. Time just gives you the opportunity to develop coping mechanisms, ways to live with your trauma until those don’t work, either. So you find other ways. And you think, years later, why am I still struggling with this?” 

Allison stared absently out the window, headlights of passing cars passing over her still form, brightening her dark eyes. “That’s the thing, though. No one comes out of a traumatic situation untouched, without some sort of mental or emotional wound. And your mind works  _ so hard _ to protect you from it, but that’s not a permanent solution. You have to learn to live with these things, what’s been done to you or what you were made to do or see.” 

She glanced down at Darcy now, as though checking to make sure she was paying attention. “What gets me is how people, no matter what they’ve faced, will always say ‘others have it worse.’ And maybe that’s true, but that doesn’t invalidate your own trauma or experiences. It’s not a competition.

“And the core truth of healing from trauma is believing that it wasn’t your fault.” Darcy pressed a hand to her eyes and tried not to cry even as Allison reached for her other hand and continued. “It wasn’t your fault, but it’s important to address those wounds when you can, before they get infected and make you sicker or even kill you. It’ll take time, but you aren’t alone. You’re never the only one, and you aren’t disappointing anyone. Be kind to yourself, and give yourself room and time to heal.” 

“How’d you know?” Darcy asked when the tears had dried and she could talk past the lump in her throat. 

Allison leaned over and pressed her forehead to Darcy’s, squeezing her hand. “Because sixteen years ago today, Kate Argent killed your mother.” 

Darcy made a point to not keep track of the day, the entire month around that date a haze of pain and terror and a raw, angry magic blistering her skin. That wasn’t how she wanted to remember her mom.

But she’d had no idea that  _ Allison _ remembered. “I didn’t realize…” 

“Kate was a monster,” Allison said, fierce. “I can’t bring your mother back, but I can make sure it never happens again. Not by one of mine, and I’ll go after anyone else who tries.” 

Darcy reached up and wiped away a tear that spilled down Allison’s face. “You shouldn’t stew in guilt, Alli. You didn’t kill my mom.” 

Allison looked away. “No. But my mom agreed with a lot of Kate’s ideals. She was just as bad, Darce, and I… I still loved her. I even  _ miss _ her, sometimes.” 

“She was your mom,” Darcy said gently. “And maybe she wasn’t a great person, but you’re allowed to  _ love _ her, Allison. And miss who she could have been, if things had been different.” 

“She threw in with the Stanes,” Allison said bitterly. “I don’t know if I can forgive her for that, even though it got her killed.” 

Or maybe  _ because _ it got her killed, Darcy thought. Whatever the case, grief wasn’t a simple concept. It affected everyone differently, and healing from a loss wasn’t something that another person could do for you. 

So instead of offering meaningless advice, Darcy just squeezed Allison’s hand and curled closer, taking a note out of the ‘wolves’ book and giving physical comfort. 

“Lydia’s going to come looking for me soon,” Allison said after a few minutes. “She said I’m not allowed to spend all night in the gym, because there are better ways to work out my anger.” 

“Such as?” Darcy asked, and instantly regretted it when Allison gave her a filthy smirk. “You know, I don’t know why I asked.” 

“She’s going to be very annoyed if I stay too long, and doubly so if she sees you in here, too. It’s pushing three in the morning.” 

“Fuck,” Darcy sighed. “Maybe I’ll go find Jane. I haven’t heard from her in a couple days.” 

Allison patted her on the thigh and stood much more gracefully than Darcy managed, the tension in her muscles telling her that she’d be terribly sore for a day or two. 

She showered quickly in the locker room, pulling on the change of clothes from her gym bag and sending Bucky a text to let him know she’d be at the tower or in the Fae realm, depending on how cooperative Jane would be this late. 

Very, as it turned out. Jane sat hunched over her cluttered desk in her lab in Stark Tower, head braced on her hands as she stared down at an open book. The lights were dim, offset by the cool glow of her machines in a halo around her. 

She was so enthralled by the contents of the page that Darcy stood beside her before Jane realized she was in the room, her awareness only evident by the slight sigh as their magics brushed against each other. 

Jane didn’t look away from the book. Darcy noted that her hair was a mess, like she’d been running her hands through it, and her lip was bitten bloody. 

Darcy studied the pages when Jane said nothing, frowning at the thick, angry marks across a list of names. She recognized it as one of the volumes Jane had been almost frantically reading through not long ago.

“What’s this?” 

Jane’s voice was dull when she answered. “My family history.” 

Darcy took a second look, horror growing at the length of the list- each name crossed off with a zeal apparent in the markings. “But…” 

“Yeah.” Jane traced a finger slowly down the list of siblings and cousins and other relations, almost two pages worth, and gave a hollow laugh. “Looks like she hunted them all down. Presumably to eliminate any threat to her throne.” 

At the very bottom of the list, Jane’s name was written in a jagged, furious scrawl. It was the only name unmarked, a story in itself. 

Interestingly enough, one name at the top of the list was scorched out. A burn, rather than a gash. “What does this mean?” 

Jane’s finger traced the singe mark with a gentleness that contradicted her next words. “I don’t know. Maybe she killed this one in some especially horrible way since they were the firstborn.”

“Or maybe they escaped, too.” 

“Maybe.” Jane’s voice cracked, and her hand shook lightly on the page. “But they’re long gone, Darcy. I can feel it. I have no family, not anymore. She killed them all.” 

Darcy pulled her out of the chair and into a hug. Jane curled into her, arms tight around her waist and face buried in Darcy’s shoulder as she struggled to compose herself. 

“Not all,” Darcy told her firmly. “We’re still here. We’re not going anywhere.” 

“It’s stupid,” Jane said, muffled into her shirt. “I have a family, I  _ know _ I do. But I thought, maybe there was another like me. A blood relative,  _ someone _ in her lineage that she hadn’t murdered.” 

“I get it,” she said, because she did. “I’m sorry, Jane.” 

“I can’t imagine how much worse this would feel,” Jane said, drawing back to look Darcy in the eye, “if I didn’t have you.”

“And the ‘wolves?” Darcy asked instead of choking up. She’d cried enough today, thank you.

Jane sighed, aggrieved, but the corners of her mouth curled up as she admitted, “And the ‘wolves.” 

Her response was cut off by a ping from Jarvis, prompting them both to look instinctively at the ceiling. “Apologies, but it seems there is a ship entering the upper atmosphere approximately a hundred miles south. It appears to be Asgardian in make.” 

Darcy and Jane stared at each other, wide-eyed. “Jarvis, give them coordinates for the compound and tell them to stay out of sight- if an alien ship lands here, it’ll cause a city-wide panic.” 

There was a brief pause, and then Jarvis said, “The coordinates were accepted. They will land within the hour. There is a car waiting for you downstairs.” 

“Thanks, J!” Darcy called, running with Jane for the elevator. 

“Do you think it’s him?” Jane asked, breathless. 

Fuck, she hoped so, otherwise they might have given an enemy the location of their compound. To be safe, she texted Maria and Natasha to give them a heads up, trusting Jarvis to relay it all to Tony and the rest of the Avengers. 

“You haven’t heard from him before this?” Darcy asked, bouncing on her toes until the door slid open in the well-lit garage, where a sleek two-seater engine purred. 

She slid into the driver’s seat and peeled out of the garage before Jane’s door had finished closing, anxious to get to the compound before the ship. The sky spit water down on them, trickling down the windshield and smudging the city lights they left behind.

“Nothing,” Jane said grimly. “And no activity from the bridge, either.” 

“Then let’s hope he just wanted a surprise reunion.” 

The drive didn’t take long, considering the compound was only an hour or so upstate and the car ate up the road so fast that everything outside remained a blur. Rain drummed down on the car, fierce and heavy and foreboding. 

“I’m calling Stiles,” Jane told her.

“Tell him to stay in the city, just in case this isn’t our favorite god of thunder,” Darcy said with a tight smile as she veered onto the long, winding road to the compound. 

Jarvis bypassed the usual security measures for her, so she was able to come screeching to a halt right outside the front doors, making the two ‘wolves holding the doors open wince. 

“They’ll need to set down on the training field,” Darcy said. “It has the space to land a ship, and it’s got airtight wards.” Jane nodded and passed the instructions to Jarvis to relay. 

People dove out of their way with concerned shouts as they sprinted headlong through the halls, the compound never truly empty, but they didn’t stop to explain. Darcy felt a prickle along the back of her neck that told her something  _ other _ was close by. Jane’s quiet hiss said that she felt it, too. 

Jane raised a hand and set a small burst of power ahead to fling open the heavy double doors to the training grounds. They stumbled to a halt just as a large, sleek ship lowered slowly, carefully to the ground, rain ricocheting off with sharp little clinking sounds. 

Darcy and Jane shielded their eyes from the water kicked up by its engines, caught in the blinding beams of light on the face of the ship until they clicked off as the engines whirred to a grinding halt. 

They held their breath, aware of others at their back- an iron suit at her shoulder, a flicker of red hair in her periphery, a shield glinting in the light on her left, the creak of a drawn bow somewhere high up- as a mechanical whine signaled the ship’s doors opening. 

She heard the rain splatter against the cold metal of the suit while Tony hovered so close that he bumped into her and Jane, as though prepared to snatch them both away from whatever stood behind the doors slowly creaking open.

Jane’s breath escaped in a violent rush at the sight of Thor standing in the open doorway, hammer strapped to his back with a crowd of people behind him. 

Steve made a shocked sound, eyes on Thor’s face. Darcy felt her heart skip at the sight of him- battered, hair shorn close to his head, and missing an eye. He was thinner than she remembered. Subdued.

Behind him, she saw Frigga’s bowed head, Loki close to her side and speaking quietly to her. Bizarrely, Bruce Banner also stood behind Thor, which… how? She’d thought he was on a research trip or something, or at least that’s what Tony’d told her. 

To her relief, Sif and Heimdall were visible as well, towering over the crowd and looking worse for wear. 

The unfamiliar woman at Thor’s side, though, snagged Darcy’s interest. She was tall, dark-haired and wearing silvery armor with a massive sword strapped to her back. She stood at Thor’s side like she belonged there, like they were equals. 

Thor stepped carefully down the ramp, eyes never leaving Jane’s face. The others remained on the ship, grim-faced and sorrowful as Thor came to a stop within arm’s reach of Jane and Darcy. 

He looked  _ terrible, _ Darcy thought with a pang of worry. 

“My friends,” Thor said quietly, casting his gaze over them all before refocusing, almost helplessly, on Jane. “Jane.” 

“Thor… What’s going on?” Jane asked, taking a tiny step forward. She flicked her gaze past him, to the ship, and back. The rain had plastered her hair and clothes to her body, so that she looked especially small and sharp-edged in the strange lighting. “What happened?” 

His shoulders slumped. “My father is dead, and Asgard is gone. Destroyed.” There were gasps and noises of shock behind her, but Darcy could only hear a faint ringing in her ears. 

Thor gestured to the ship. “We are all that’s left.” Then he shook his head, smiling wryly. “No. I misspoke. Our realm was destroyed. But Asgard lives through it’s people, and we are lucky so many survived.” 

Tony’s faceplate snapped back. “You need somewhere for them to stay?” He asked, serious and focused. “We’ll be glad to help, buddy.” 

Thor smiled again, this one lighter. “Thank you, but no. I promised to bring my people to safety, to find somewhere for us to grieve and recover. I do not believe human cities are the answer for my people.” 

He turned to Jane and knelt before her in the mud, his focus so singular that Darcy felt the sudden urge to turn away and give them some privacy. 

But Thor continued, seemingly unable to tear his eyes away from Jane, who’s glamor briefly flickered as though she was unable to maintain it under the intensity of his gaze. 

“Asgard is lost, but her people are not. We survived the destruction of our home, and we come before you now, Lady Queen, to beg refuge in your realm.” 

Tears mingled with rainwater on Jane’s face as she reached down to cup his face in one small hand. “Thor. Of  _ course. _ Whatever your people need, they will have.” 

He heaved a breath, relief so stark on his face that Darcy’s chest ached in sympathy. As though there were any world where Jane would have turned them all away, no matter their own relationship status. 

Jane looked to Darcy, then, a dark and deadly being with a prince at her feet. Darcy met her gaze steadily, letting her magic illuminate the small group to counter that darkness. 

“Sentinel Lewis,” Jane said, smiling wryly at the formality, “The Unseelie Court will give sanctuary to Asgard’s people. Can we count on your support?”

Darcy glanced up at the ship, at the mournful faces lightened by tentative hope, at the warrior’s fierce attention, Heimdall’s exhaustion. These people needed a way home, and Jane would give them one. 

A new reign of the Fae, indeed, Darcy thought with fierce satisfaction. How the former Seelie Queen would hate her daughter’s heart. 

Darcy reached for Thor’s hand, and she and Jane pulled him to his feet as she answered Jane’s question. “Always.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Link to Six Sentence Sunday for the next chapter!](https://i-like-plan-m.tumblr.com/post/611996498338660352/six-sentence-sunday)


	7. Naomi: Nova Solis

**6: NOVA SOLIS**

_**Naomi** _

Her favorite thing about Nova Solis, Naomi had decided after a few short weeks in the city, was the statue of Nia, the High Sage of the Library of Soraya in Al Riyadmi. Nia had sacrificed her magic and subsequent ability to follow her people to the new realm in order to protect the dragons’ city on Earth as well as the entrance to the portal. 

Soraya had not forgotten Nia’s sacrifice. 

The statue towered at the entrance to the new library, her body covered by the same flowing robe she’d worn when Naomi and Vahid found her in Al Riyadmi. Nia’s expression was all grave lines, strong and sure and obviously carved by someone who’d loved her. Her hands were spread apart in welcome to the library beyond and the sash carved around her thick waist bore the story of her life and sacrifice in elegant writing along the border. 

Sayali woofed behind her, a booming noise that startled Naomi into twisting quickly around with a worried expression- Sayali had a knack for finding and creating mayhem. This time it was neither, thankfully. The Arcos grumbled at the brightly colored bird that had followed them for weeks and took great joy in driving Sayali insane. 

The birds, dubbed the Ocak, had two sets of wings, one main and a secondary set attached to their thin legs. They weren’t capable of great flight, but instead glided easily along on the rough air currents this high up in the city- air that thankfully had higher oxygen levels than Earth’s at this altitude, otherwise all the non-dragons would have died after a couple days. Their plumage was an array of spectacular colors, beaks a startling pink and a tall crest atop their heads. 

“Go away,” Naomi scolded, reluctantly charmed by the creature’s inquisitive whistle in response. “It isn’t nice to tease her.” 

A silky, amused voice from behind her made her cringe. “Are you talking to an Ocak?” 

Naomi turned to find Idri, the High Sage of the library and General Soraya’s consort, standing between the open doors with a mildly curious expression. She had thick black hair that fell to her waist, slanted, milky eyes, and wore flowing pants and a cropped shirt over her thickly curved body. 

Her attention was focused unerringly on Naomi despite her blindness. Feeling somewhat sheepish, Naomi called Sayali to heel and joined the High Sage and advisor to Prime Darius. Idri slid a hand in the crook of her arm, friendly as ever, and guided Naomi through the library.

She masterfully avoided the shifted dragons sprawled in the rays of light shining through the stained glass windows. Naomi muttered something unflattering under her breath when they were nearly struck by a twitching tail. 

Dragons and their sun. It was not uncommon to find a dragon draped over something convenient and baking in the warmth of the suns like overgrown, fire-breathing cats. 

“Your vocabulary is certainly improving,” Idri said generously. Two months of lessons with the dragon shifter had improved Naomi’s knowledge of the dragon’s high class dialect, but she was careful to not give away her established knowledge of their language. 

“Thank you,” Naomi said, pleased. “I listened to Soraya’s last meeting with the advisory council and took a few notes.” 

Idri laughed, the sound bright and lovely. “Yes, she is clever with her swearing. She enjoys watching the elder Consuls turn purple with rage.” 

Naomi stifled a laugh. 

“Where is Vahid this afternoon?” Idri asked. 

“With Prime Darius and the advisory council all day, I think.” Idri hummed in response and, pleasantries over, returned to teaching her the grammar rules of the dragon language. 

Naomi left the library hours later with a headache from trying to read the dragon language, her hand cramping from writing its complicated symbols, and her body sore from her morning workout. She walked back to the palace where she and Vahid had a room that was three times the size of their entire house in Kailua. 

Sayali trotted merrily along at her side, one of a rare few Arcos in the city. It seemed the lethal predators preferred the thick forests far below, though Sayali seemed content to follow Naomi around and glower at any dragons that drifted too close to her chosen human. Her belligerence and suspicion of all dragon kind- not to mention the size of her teeth- certainly made Vahid more comfortable with Naomi spending so much time without him to watch over her. 

She was  _ not _ a trouble magnet, despite what Vahid believed. 

They both side-stepped in unison as someone shifted in the wide street and took flight, then ducked only a few steps later when another dragon swooped low for a landing. By the time they made it back to the palace Naomi’s nerves were frayed, as usual, by the constant come and go of dragons of every size and shape that had little regard for any non-shifters in their path. 

Sayali’s long, tapered ears pricked forward. Naomi followed the Arcos’s gaze and felt a quick stab of pleasure to see Vahid waiting patiently for her in the pale stone street, hands in the pockets of his loose pants. She heard a cacophony of wing beats above her, was distantly aware of the passing dragons watching her and Vahid with curious eyes, but her focus barely wavered from the sight of his lean, muscled body and the curve of his mouth. 

Naomi reached him, let him pull her in so he could kiss her slow and deep in greeting. A heavy gust of wings from a passing dragon made her break away, growling under her breath. He raised a brow in question. 

She sighed and admitted, “I feel like a tiny, unsuspecting field mouse about to be snatched in the air by a hawk.” 

Vahid pressed his lips together to valiantly restrain the laugh, but his eyes were bright and amused. 

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” she grumbled, hiding her own helpless grin in response to his good humor. “How was your meeting this morning?” 

He sobered, tangled their fingers together as they walked back to the palace. “Interesting. Darius still wishes for us to both join his advisory council, and the members of the council are less than pleased about the idea.” 

She nodded- it was why she’d been sent to Idri, after all, to learn the customs and language so she could better advise the dragon leaders. 

As it turned out, the Mage that had replaced Sargon’s High Mage did not have the power or knowledge necessary to continue in the role. Something Naomi found odd. Why would the High Mage’s replacement not be adequately prepared for this exact situation? And why hadn’t the previous Mage shared the necessary information with their successor?

“They were rather vocal today about their concerns. With no offense meant for us, of course,” he said dryly. 

“Of course,” Naomi repeated, rolling her eyes. He flashed his eyes at a dragon that nearly clipped her with a wing and sent them scurrying away. 

Vahid wore the monster a little closer to the surface here. She hadn’t realized how well he’d hidden it before, deflecting and dodging interest, the beast tucked neatly away. But here, among his own kind with no need to appear unthreatening for wary or unsuspecting humans, the predatory light in his eyes made her heart skip a beat any time he was at her back, her hindbrain shrieking whenever he pressed along her spine. 

It wasn’t necessarily a bad kind of nerves, she’d come to realize. With any other dragon, it would be, but she trusted Vahid implicitly. But now she was hyper aware of the true nature of his kind, the danger etched in every scale, every bone, every molecule of his being. 

As though her brain had finally caught up to the reality of what he was- a motherfucking  _ dragon. _

With Vahid, though, the thrill of danger came up hard against his gentle way with her, the soft looks and adoring touches. She didn’t fear him, could never be afraid of such an integral part of him. 

Plus it was kind of hot to see the brutal strength of him housed so casually in that lean body, only hints of the fire-breathing monster peeking through. 

“We are expected at dinner,” he told her. “I agreed to Darius’s invitation.” 

Naomi grimaced. “Will Soraya be there?” The dragon general still regarded Naomi with open suspicion, guarded around her and borderline rude. 

“She will,” Vahid said apologetically. “But Darius assures me she will remain civil. For dinner, at least.” 

She sighed. “Okay. Who else?” Dragon politics were exhausting, so much revolving around the intricate class systems that made no sense whatsoever to Naomi. Humans ranked low, magic users somewhere in the middle, and the rest ordered by ancient nobility bloodlines and current occupational roles of the dragons. 

Every dragon wanted to be above someone else. After all, what use was a god without subjects? 

This all meant that she and Vahid spent many nights at long, painful dinners with aspiring social climbers. Many dragons sought out Vahid, the royals’ lost friend who’d been welcomed back into the fold with open arms. 

The magic users- mages- either regarded Naomi with awe or blatant mistrust and envy. For not only was she a foreign magical powerhouse, but she had also ensnared one of the most powerful non-royal dragons in the realm. 

As it turned out, she had less patience for the fawning liars than the outright hostile mages. 

“Kaveh, I believe,” Vahid answered her question. “A couple of the advisory council as well.” 

“Not Rahim?” She wondered. 

“No.” Vahid frowned. “He is unwell, according to Darius.” 

“Still?” Naomi wondered what could possibly bring low a dragon, especially one from the strongest bloodlines in dragon history. She’d met Rahim only briefly upon their arrival. He’d been soft spoken and kind to her, if somewhat brittle in appearance. His personal guard- the only sibling to have one, to Naomi’s knowledge- had hovered close and eyed her and Vahid with open distrust. 

Any questions regarding the royal’s health were carefully deflected in a manner to avoid causing suspicion. Which just made her  _ more _ suspicious. What was actually wrong with Rahim, and why did his siblings try so hard to hide it? No other dragons seemed to notice his alleged illness or frequent absences. 

A string of runes along her thigh warmed, drawing her attention. She stepped closer to Vahid, head lowered towards his, and quietly said, “Someone is in our rooms.” 

“Interesting. Someone with ill intentions?” He murmured, fingers tightening around hers at the warning. She shook her head- the secondary set of runes inked on her skin remained dormant. 

The benefit of fewer magic users in this realm meant that very few people knew that wards were a possibility. This gave her an edge, one she intended to use. 

Sayali led the way into the palace, trading glares with the passing dragons. Evidently a motivated Arcos could kill an unshifted dragon if provoked- and even a shifted one if they had a pack. There were hard feelings all around in a way that made Naomi think of dogs and cats. 

They rounded a corner near their rooms and came to an abrupt halt. Rahim blinked at them in surprise, the royal bearing dark bruises under his eyes and such a fragile air that Naomi felt the sudden urge to reach out and hold him upright. But the tall, broad-shouldered young man hovering at his side did so for her, one large hand cupping Rahim’s elbow to steady him. 

Rahim appeared thinner than most dragons in the upper society, his dark skin washed out and his clothes rumpled in a contradiction to the dragon’s natural beauty and grace. The golden-skinned guard, Noor, positively dwarfed him, well-muscled and sharp-eyed. His ears, Naomi noted with interest, were slightly tapered and his canine teeth longer and sharper than that of a human. He kept his long, dark hair tied in a low ponytail. Everything about him projected minimal fuss, which didn’t detract from his good looks in any way. 

“Apologies,” Rahim said with a tired smile. “Hello, Vahid, Naomi. I hope you are well?” 

“We are,” Vahid said, consistently and deliberately gentle with the prince. “And you, Rahim? I regret that we do not see each other often.” The royal ducked his head with a shy smile even as Noor scowled behind him. 

“I hope to be free of this… project of mine soon-” Noor’s scowl softened with something like sorrow, pity- “and then I hope we can change that. We missed you greatly, Vahid.” 

“I’m only happy I found my way back to you,” Vahid said smoothly. 

Naomi intervened when the silence lingered, something raw in Rahim’s eyes and Noor’s scowl becoming truly spectacular the longer Vahid looked at the royal with growing uncertainty. Careful to make grammatical mistakes consistent with her level of learning, she said politely, “If you’ll excuse us, we have a dinner to attend.” 

Rahim’s attention jerked to her as though he’d forgotten she was there. “Oh, yes, of course. Good luck, I hear Consul Faraco will be attending.” 

The curse slipped out before she could stop herself, but an appreciative grin flashed across Noor’s face for an instant so she didn’t feel too badly. If a royal’s personal guard hated the smug Consul then surely they were used to hearing about it. 

Naomi cleared her throat awkwardly, aware that beside her Vahid’s shoulders were shaking silently. “Ah, sorry about that. It’s apparently instinct at this point,” she said honestly. 

Rahim’s lips were pressed together against a smile of his own. “No offense taken on my part. Consul Faraco is…” 

Noor murmured something she didn’t catch but made Rahim choke and immediately swat at him.  _ “Noor! _ You have to at least  _ pretend _ to tolerate him. He’s very powerful and already wants you gone for being…” 

“Not dragonkin? I’m aware, thank you.” Noor said dryly. His voice was low and smooth as he insistently tugged Rahim along with a polite nod to Naomi and Vahid while Rahim continued to lecture him. 

Naomi watched with interest as Sayali licked Noor’s hand when he passed by and was rewarded with a gentle ruffle between her ears. Odd, for the Arcos to like anyone in the city enough to approach them. 

“My love?” She turned away from studying her Arcos and found Vahid waiting patiently by their door just down the hall. “Strangers in our room, remember?” 

“Right!” God, her mind was a constant whirlwind of questions and suspicions here. She had an overwhelming urge to turn one of their bedroom walls into a list to keep track of it all. 

She joined Vahid at the door, Sayali crouched in preparation at her side with her ears perked intently at whatever she heard within. Naomi’s wards would keep her and Vahid’s conversations unintelligible but wouldn’t for anyone not included in the runes carved into the baseboards. 

Vahid helpfully opened the door but slipped in first despite the magic swirling around her body like a cyclone. Exasperated, she followed, letting her spark seep across the floor and solidify over the feet of the people waiting within. Startled yelps echoed off the high marble walls as her magic reacted to three individuals. 

Naomi took a moment to study the room for further danger or tampering with her wards, trusting Vahid to assess the threat level of their unexpected guests while her attention was diverted. Sayali rumbled low in her throat, the mane along her neck and shoulders standing on end and making her seem even bigger than usual. 

“Friends,” Vahid said pleasantly. “Is there something we can assist you with?” 

Naomi glanced over. Two of the three intruders were young- barely teenagers, by the looks of it- but the third was a small woman with braided grey hair and an air of regal disdain. She kept her hands folded over her stomach, unimpressed with the display even as the two others bent over to poke curiously at the magic encasing their feet. 

“Your magic is stronger than this realm has seen in centuries,” the woman said, running a critical eye over Naomi. “That’s good, for us.” 

Naomi cocked her head. “Centuries?” 

“Humans live longer in this realm than yours, child.” 

That much she’d worked out on her own, but  _ centuries? _ What kept the humans of this world alive so long? She had a feeling any questions would be ignored or dismissed, but she made a mental note to look into it further. 

“‘Us’ as in the Nakano?” Vahid asked, leaning a hip against a table and pouring a decanter of wine. He politely handed the first to the stranger, who looked pleased with the offering. 

The two kids looked at the door in alarm. “You’re not supposed to talk about it!” 

Naomi sighed and released the magic containing them, Sayali settling as the tension in the room evaporated. “There are wards in place in these rooms. We can speak freely here.” She eyed the woman. “Which is why you approached us here, isn’t it? Finally decided we were honest about wanting to help?” 

The woman sniffed. “You’d be cautious, too, if you’d lost loved ones to dragonkin and their plots.” 

Vahid wilted. “I regret your loss, especially at the hands of my kind.” 

She studied him in return before saying, “I believe you actually mean that, dragon, which is why we are risking this at all- despite my objections.” She gestured to the chairs as though they belonged to her. “Sit.” 

Naomi and Vahid complied, the kids distracted by Sayali’s cautious greeting. The Nakano woman quietly observed the instinctive way Vahid reached for Naomi as she neared him, waiting until they were settled together on a small couch to continue. 

“My name is Sonia,” she said. “But be aware that you should not refer to me by name in front of any of the dragon council.” 

“And the royals?” 

Sonia shrugged. “They will take notice of you using our names, and while they do not think it odd, most of the council won’t approve. Many of them still hold the traditional views towards humans.”

“Which are?” Naomi wondered. 

“That we are weaker. Lesser.” Naomi studied Sonia’s hard eyes and rigid spine, wondered how on earth anyone could look at this woman and think her weak. “If you intend to discover the source of the unrest within Nova Solis, you should not alienate the council just yet. They are more informed than anyone else in the city- sometimes even more so than the royals.” 

“More so than Soraya and Idri?” Vahid asked doubtfully. 

“Where do you think Soraya and Idri get their information?” Sonia snapped. “They have sources all over that feed information to them, but they are corruptible, their loyalties shifting with the highest bid.”

Naomi frowned, thinking over the council members she knew. “You think the council has something to do with whatever’s going on? The missing Nakano, Sargon’s death?” 

“So you don’t believe the Nakano are responsible for Sargon’s death?” 

“I think there’s no reasonable explanation for their involvement,” Naomi admitted. “Missing Nakano people or not, Chief Kanoa said that Sargon agreed to meet with him about the problem.” 

“And our advance party was rumored to be found fleeing the scene of his murder,” Sonia finished. She frowned, proud and regal as any royal. “But Nakano do not send advance parties, especially not for royal negotiations.” 

Naomi nodded- she understood the Nakano beliefs enough to know that the Chief would not send his people into a dangerous situation that he would not personally walk into, much less a meeting with the Prime leader of dragon kind. It would be seen as an insult to both Kanoa’s leadership and Sargon’s integrity. 

But anyone who knew the Nakano and their beliefs would have known this, too, so who let the killers in the door? And were the killers even Nakano? Clan tattoos and clothing meant very little in the way of evidence, especially since the bodies were destroyed in Soraya’s rage after the discovery of her father’s body- a rage that had destroyed the evidence and taken down an entire wing of the colossal palace. 

And for the most burning question: what had really happened that night?

She tuned back in as Sonia spoke to Vahid. “You understand our hesitation, then, to have a dragon join the ranks of our little rebellion.” 

“I was not aware the movement had gained enough momentum to be considered a rebellion,” Vahid answered smoothly. 

Sonia smiled faintly. “A response to whispers in the city, passed in secret between humans who seek a way out.” 

“Are there many of those?” Naomi asked. 

“Not as many as you’d think, with the way dragon-human relations are these days.” Sonia lifted a shoulder. “But this is their home as much as the dragons’, and humans are a stubborn sort. Many want to stay and fight for better days, better relationships. Some stay out of pure spite.” 

Any moron could walk the streets of Nova Solis and observe the tensions between humans and dragons. Many dragons regarded human citizens with new suspicion, some with outright hostility, and as a result the humans seemed on edge, expecting an attack or outburst at any moment. A vicious cycle with unfounded accusations flying every direction, furthering the divide.

“But there are some who leave.” She couldn’t blame people for wanting reassurance and safety outside of Nova Solis.

“Yes. Should you ever be involved in the evacuation of a human, you can know the specifics of how we do it. Until then, you will be given information on a need-to-know basis.” 

“Still don’t trust us?” 

Sonia gave her an enigmatic smile. “I trust no one, Lady Spark. How do you think I’ve lived so long?” She glanced back at the kids, who were sprawled on the floor with Sayali and listening with rapt attention. “You will see the three of us most often when we have information to pass or collect. There are others in the city, even the palace, and they will also be watching.” 

Naomi’s eyes drifted along Sonia’s silk robes, attention falling to a small, bright pink feather stuck to the material just below the Nakano woman’s calf. 

She smiled to herself. So that was why the Ocak followed her and Sayali around. She wondered if the bird counted as one of Sonia’s sources in the palace- either way, she’d be watching for the Ocak closely from now on. 

“You two should prepare for dinner,” Sonia told them. “As the Master Weaver in the palace, I was able to reassign myself to you both. If anyone asks, tell them I was here with my assistants for your fitting.” 

“My fitting?” Vahid asked, brow furrowing. 

Sonia tipped her head towards their bedroom. “A dinner outfit for you, dragon, to match your Lady Spark. A united front is important, especially in the viper pit.” She rose gracefully and swept the kids out of the room with a sharp parting nod to Naomi and Vahid. “I will be in touch.” 

The silence in the room stretched on until Vahid cleared his throat and said, “Well, that was informative.” 

“Was it?” Naomi said wryly, reaching for his cup of wine and draining it. “I have more questions than I started with. And I’m feeling a little offended about the blatant distrust, I think.” 

“She’s honest, at least,” Vahid mused, wandering into the bedroom. She heard his sound of delight moments later. “Oh! This is spectacular work! Naomi, come see!” 

~*~ 

Their outfits  _ were _ spectacular, Naomi admitted to herself later that night as she and Vahid passed their reflections in one of the massive floor to ceiling windows lining the outer halls. Sonia was obviously tremendously talented, and she had an excellent eye for color. 

Naomi’s dress was a myriad of vivid oranges, yellows, and pinks that glowed against her dark skin. The bodice had an intricate pattern of avian wings, if one looked closely enough, overlaid by sheer lace that sparkled under the warm lighting. She had tiny golden silk strands woven through the tight braids that fell to her collarbones. 

At her side, Vahid’s golden shirt seemed to soak all stray threads of light in, breathtaking against his black shoulder-length hair and silver eyes. The full skirt of his outfit had a sinuous pattern that matched her colorful dress, spreading across the fabric like dizzying threads of light. He wore a black stripe around his collar, a testament of mourning for the late Prime Sargon that all dragons still bore years after his demise. 

But what were a few decades to these immortal beings? 

Humans either weren’t permitted or didn’t want to risk wearing the black stripe as well- she hadn’t figured out which, yet, as so few wore them. But the Mages in the palace wore the stripe, as well as the traders at the city’s boundaries. 

More fucking politics to figure out, she thought with an exasperated huff. Vahid glanced at her in question, then returned to his discussion with Prime Darius when she shook her head. On Darius’s other side was Soraya, who sat tall in a loose silken jumpsuit of a deep red color that contrasted beautifully with her night-dark skin. 

The first female Prime had had darker skin than Rosana, the mother of Rahim, Kaveh, and Esteri, so Darius and Soraya were much darker than their half-siblings. Not that the half-blood relation detracted from their bond in any way, that much was obvious. 

On Soraya’s other side was Kaveh, Rahim’s twin and a Wing Commander in the dragon aerial army. The army that, Naomi had gathered, was more of a formality revolving around ranks and titles than a force that would actually be going to war with anyone else in the peaceful realm. 

Kaveh snickered into his drink at something the youngest royal, Esteri, said as she waved her arms around with a dramatic flourish while the others either ignored them or watched with disapproval. 

Naomi just wondered why  _ she _ couldn’t sit with the fun ones. 

But the seating arrangements had her next to Consul Tahj instead, a handsome young council member with a friendly smile and polite interest in her magic that felt mostly patronizing. 

Dragons, for all of their longevity and supposedly perfect memories, seemed to have forgotten the might of a grown and trained spark. Or maybe they’d died out entirely here, too, and there were none left to compare. She had no intentions of reminding them, though, not unless things truly went to shit and she had no other choice. 

A passing servant caught Naomi’s attention. She studied their tapered ears and brief hint of extended canines as the woman smiled blankly at a council member griping about their food and wondered at the similarity to Noor, Rahim’s ever-suspicious guard. 

“Not familiar with shifters?” Consul Tahj asked, noticing her distraction.

“Shifters?” Naomi repeated, wondering how the hell she hadn’t figured out that there were shifters in the palace, too. She’d learned a little of their kind through lessons with Idri, of course, but they rarely discussed identifying features. 

Canid and felid shifter packs lived within the jungles around the Nakano city, but most steered clear of the human clan. They were an isolated species, made up primarily of their familial and pack bonds with a complicated culture and tendency to avoid non-shifters. 

Consul Tahj nodded once at the shifter’s retreating back. “She’s a felid shifter. You didn’t encounter any shifters during your time in the Iroka Wilds?” The Iroka Wilds were the city’s name for the jungle bordering the Nakano clan’s city, which was considered so dangerous that few risked entering it. 

Except the Nakano, apparently, because humans. 

Naomi shook her head. Consul Tahj nodded sagely. “Consider yourself lucky, then. Many of the packs roam the Wilds, and they’re not fond of strangers. You and Vahid probably would have been mauled to death.” 

“We were lucky,” Naomi agreed. “Sayali found us first.” She felt the Arcos’ tail thump against her shins beneath the table. Sayali had refused to be left behind for the dinner and, since Naomi could hardly deny that the four hundred pound canid made her feel safer, she didn’t bother with a pointless argument. The dragons were cranky about it, but most seemed to understand that Sayali answered to no one and that their continued objections were a waste of time. 

“I haven’t seen a felid shifter before,” Naomi continued. “Or their animal equivalent, either.” Sometimes she’d noticed glowing eyes in the tree canopy high above, but whatever lurked within the shadows had kept out of sight. 

Consul Radia leaned across Consul Tahj to say, “You still have felids in your realm, correct?”

“Felines, but yes. Everything from tiny house cats to six hundred pound tigers and lions.” 

Consul Radia waved her fork to where Sayali sprawled over Naomi’s feet below the table. “Picture a felid around the size of your Arcos there, sleek and lightning fast. Most of the Vasu- that’s what they’re called- have darker fur patterns to blend in with the canopy, and their legs are longer and stronger than the Arcos’, which they use to leap a hundred feet or strangle their prey to death.” 

Consul Tahj pushed her gently back into her own seat and out of his personal space. “You’ll have to forgive Consul Radia, Lady Spark. She gets excited about the Vasu- her mother let her have one as a pet when she was young, and we’ve all suffered for it.” 

Consul Radia scowled at him. “Just because you’re too self-absorbed to look past your own reflection, Tahj, doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t appreciate a beautiful predator when we see one.” 

“Oh, I can recognize a beautiful predator perfectly well,” he said smoothly, eyes unwavering from Consul Radia’s face. 

Naomi quickly averted her attention, suddenly feeling like a voyeur as Consul Radia smiled back at him, slow and seductive. 

One of the kids from earlier passed by the table without a single glance at Naomi or Vahid. She watched the rest of the enormous room, taking in its open spaces and high ceilings and the diverse people eating within. 

The city’s architecture was a stunning blend of Mediterranean and Ancient Arabian designs, a breathtaking new style that was luxurious and spacious with features unique to this realm and the dragon shifters’ needs. Even the smallest house was large enough to contain a shifted dragon and the rest of the city built with their wingspans and size in mind. 

She accidentally made eye contact with Consul Faraco, who narrowed his beady little eyes at her in response. Naomi raised a brow, unimpressed with his hostile attitude. This one was a traditionalist for sure, she thought, if his attitude towards anyone not dragonkin were anything to judge by. She’d already been in multiple arguments with him over Sayali’s constant presence, and she was well aware of his tendency to lord his status over anyone misfortunate enough to speak with him. 

At Consul Faraco’s side, the High Mage’s replacement studied Naomi closely. He was a tall, dark-eyed young man with impeccably styled facial hair and a freshly shaved head. High Mage Ziadie, who had replaced Sargon’s High Mage, Natoya, shortly after her death. 

Evidently the Ruling Council of Mages had decided he was the most capable of them all- despite his apparent youthfulness- and most deserving of the honor. Maybe it was his careful watchfulness of her, or the fact that Natoya hadn’t seen it fit to share information with him, but Naomi didn’t trust Ziadie. And she really didn’t like the way he looked at her, as though one wrong move on her part would provoke him into attacking. 

As though he was biding his time, waiting for an opportunity to test his magic against her own. 

Naomi had no desire to get into the magical equivalent of a dick-measuring contest with the High Mage of Nova Solis, so she ignored his intense stare in favor of feeding Sayali scraps from her plate. 

A sudden presence at her back made all the hairs on her neck stand on end, her hindbrain shrieking in alarm in a way that could only mean a dragon lurked behind her. 

Consul Tahj quickly stood and bowed to General Soraya, yielding his seat to her with a sympathetic glance towards Naomi as Consul Radia joined him in his abrupt departure. 

Soraya watched them leave the sprawling dining hall with an unreadable expression, noting everyone that they stopped to talk with on their way out. It was only after they’d disappeared from the room that the formidable dragon turned her attention to Naomi. 

“Idri tells me you are improving rapidly in your lessons,” Soraya said brusquely. 

“I’ve always been good with languages,” Naomi said, wary. Surely the crankiest dragon in Nova Solis hadn’t come over here to  _ compliment _ her. This was a trap waiting to spring, she just knew it. 

“Not just with our language, even I can tell that,” she said dismissively. “But your grasp on our politics, the history, the species relations in the city and outside of it.” 

“I do alright.” 

“Idri is the High Sage of Nova Solis, second in rank only to the royal family,” Soraya said with a raised brow. “She has translated nearly every scroll in our library into braille, entire millennia of knowledge stored within her mind. There is no one wiser in our realm.” Her penetrating gaze flicked to Naomi. “She believes you are capable of impossible things.” 

“My magic is strong, yes,” Naomi said carefully. “But I wouldn’t say I’m capable of impossible things.” 

_ Impossible _ meant nothing to her anymore- she lived in a different realm than the one in which she’d been born. She was in a relationship with a man who could shift into a dragon, and presently a giant fluffy predator with teeth the length of her hand dozed happily on her feet.

“Idri says your capability to act as a magical conduit is more impressive than your own raw power. That you can connect things like no other Being in this realm.” 

Naomi sipped her mulled wine, created from a tangy fruit native to the realm. “It appears Idri has a lot to say about me.” 

“She likes you,” Soraya said, voice sharp, then quieted as she angled in, head tipped close to her ear. “But I monitor my city very closely, Lady Spark, and I am  _ always _ aware of the portal below our city. So I know it was not three months ago that you arrived, but rather nine.” 

Her heart was racing, she realized absently. Soraya’s thinly veiled threat so clear in her voice, in her dark eyes, in the flash of heat that rippled over her skin. A rune on Naomi’s thigh glowed gold beneath her dress as she covered the sound of her heartbeat, not wanting to risk attention from any others at the table. 

Soraya watched her with an air of satisfaction, a mouse trapped between the cat’s claws. “So much missing time,” she mused. “Six months unaccounted for- but more interesting is the fact that you felt the need to lie about it.” 

Naomi felt as though she was being bullied towards an answer, into revealing herself and Vahid. So she did the only thing she could think of past the panic, which was to turn the tables on the General.

“What really happened the night your father died?” 

Shock flashed across Soraya’s face, followed quickly by raw pain and then a smoldering anger. “You dare ask me that, after you’ve spent months with those accused?” 

“So you do believe the Nakano killed him?” Naomi cocked her head. “And here I thought you were the tactician.” 

But she  _ didn’t _ believe the Nakano were responsible, Naomi realized as Soraya pressed her lips together and reined in her fury after a careful glance at the rest of the room. But something held her tongue. Something had kept the truth about that night from coming out, something that made the royals continue with the deception. 

“You know nothing,” Soraya said, an undercurrent of a growl in her throat. “Keep your nose out of dragon affairs, little spark, or you’ll regret it.” And with that the General of dragon kind stood and stalked away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Six Sentence Sunday](https://i-like-plan-m.tumblr.com/post/612672764435906560/six-sentence-sunday)


	8. Darcy: Executions

**8: EXECUTIONS**

_**Darcy** _

From their admittedly limited explorations into the Fae realm, the new Queens and the pack discovered that there were whole areas of their respective realms that remained unexplored or otherwise empty. 

It was kind of fun to investigate a whole new world, as long as they didn’t consider the reasons  _ why _ the realm was so empty. 

The remaining Fae were still healing from being tortured and traumatized during the previous Queens’ reign of terror, still rebuilding after so many of them had been slaughtered. 

In Jane’s new realm, many of the Unseelie Fae decided to remain close to the palace, living within or along the outskirts to be with the rest of their people. Others elected to remain deeper within the land, as though afraid to get too close and risk the same treatment as before. 

Regardless, there was plenty of available space to build a home for the Asgardian refugees. And the people were more than willing to put in the work, though for now they stayed inside the protective walls of the palace. 

It had grown by the time Jane led the Asgardians through a Fae gate and into the parallel realm, the forest theme still in full effect as it multiplied the living areas so that every person had their own room. 

Better to give them somewhere safe and comfortable for now, Jane reasoned, and find something more permanent for them later. Besides, it cost her nothing to create a new wing for them thanks to the sentient castle and her boundless magic.

Because while the two Fae Courts coexisted mostly without conflict, there were still centuries of hostilities and prejudices on both sides to overcome, and Jane didn’t want the vulnerable Asgardians caught in the middle. 

Not to mention the number of Unseelie Fae who still lurked within the realm, slipping between shadows and biding their time to remind the new queen that some Fae  _ preferred _ the Ash and Blood Reign of the queens before. 

Asgard’s formal petition for refuge in her realm made them a potential target to those Fae, though most of the Unseelie citizens welcomed them. Two mourning peoples colliding in ways that could have been catastrophic, if not for the way they lifted each other up rather than strike each other down. 

Darcy passed through the lab’s Fae gate to get to the palace, nodding a greeting to the Queens Guard stationed at the entrance. They wore the starry white armor of the Novae, the name they’d chosen for themselves as Jane’s distinct guard. Lydia’s black-coated Queens Guard had named themselves Harbingers in a morbid testament to their banshee queen. 

Darcy made her way through the palace, noting a few wandering Asgardians who appeared awed at the constant evolution of the strange castle, staring up at the deep purple hues of the sky bleeding through a thick canopy of azure trees, fascinated by the wavering lights from bioluminescent insects. 

They’d been warned upon arriving to avoid archways and pools of water, instructed firmly to never touch a mirrored surface or risk being swallowed by the ravenous magics within the realm, always hiding in unassuming places. 

The Fae realm was a dangerous place, but its people watched over the refugees, gently guiding them away from threats they never even noticed. 

It made her smile as she passed the curling vines of blue and gold lilies, a wall of beautiful funeral flowers that had appeared shortly after Asgard came to Court and replaced the metal gates that had menaced the aura of the palace only a couple weeks previous. 

Darcy arrived early to the meeting in the throne room, and paused in the entryway to study its inhabitants. 

A number of wildly diverse Fae clustered around Jane, providing their weekly reports on their respective community or region. Dryads drifted slowly through the room, leaving a shower of petals behind them so that most of the room was covered in sweet smelling flowers that latched onto anything organic and vigorously attempted to reproduce. 

A goblin scowled and croaked something rude as an undine materialized out of a pool of water tucked behind a giant column, spraying bystanders with copper-scented water. Water that, Darcy noted, ran in red rivulets of blood from the undine, who were lethal monsters of the deep that would give a siren nightmares. 

Tiny pixies fluttered around the dryads and nymphs, clinging to their forms and shrilling their demands and complaints to anyone capable of hearing sounds in that octave. 

She paused at the sight of Frigga and Loki in one of the alcoves that branched off from the throne room, mostly concealed by a thick, sweeping curtain of branches similar to that of a weeping willow. Loki lounged against the smooth bark of the rail, spinning a mourning flower between his fingers and appearing inattentive, but Darcy noted how he’d stationed himself between his mother and the entrance.

The former Queen of Asgard lifted her head at Darcy’s approach, her countenance both regal and mourning. “Sentinel Lewis,” she greeted. 

“Lady Frigga.” Darcy smiled, noting how the color seemed to have returned to Frigga’s face, and that her eyes were much clearer. “How are you feeling?” 

“Still weak, I admit.” Frigga touched her fingertips to her chest, as though to remind herself that her heart still beat. “But alive. My strength is returning to me faster than I’d thought possible. This realm possesses more magic than I’ve felt in centuries.” 

“Untamed magic,” Loki muttered, squinting suspiciously at a blue-skinned sprite that peered curiously through the curtain of branches. He tried to shoo her away, only to have the sprite bare her teeth at him. 

“But that’s the wonder, isn’t it?” Frigga countered, enthusiastic. “For a queen to wield such chaos is an incredible thing to witness. This realm bends itself willingly-  _ lovingly- _ to her will. It’s remarkable.  _ She’s _ remarkable.” 

Darcy’s appreciation for her grew, warmed by the woman’s obvious admiration for Jane. 

The sprite made grabby-hands towards Loki, who stared at her, perplexed. 

“I don’t want to pick you up,” he said, uncertain. The sprite stomped her foot and trilled an angry retort, reaching for him again. 

“She wants the flower,” Darcy said, hiding a smile. “Sprites drink the nectar from the realm’s flora. She’s hungry, and probably sniffed your flower out.” 

“Go to the wall and pick one yourself!” He said indignantly. She wilted, whining piteously. 

“It’s a long trip for her. They need a lot of energy to fly. Kind of like hummingbirds.” His disdainful expression clearly conveyed that he had no idea what a hummingbird was and cared even less. Darcy shrugged. “The others will track you down soon enough. You  _ really _ don’t want them to swarm. They have very sharp teeth.” 

Loki rolled his eyes but relented, passing the flower over to the sprite, who flushed nearly the same blue as the petals in excitement, clutching the flower to her chest and bouncing in place. 

She chirped at him, cheerful and impudent now that she’d won, and took flight to eat her treasure. 

“This realm is bizarre,” Loki muttered, watching her progress. 

“But better than we could have hoped for,” Frigga rebuked gently. “My magic was nearly drained entirely when Hela held me prisoner. I honestly didn’t expect to recover, not even after Heimdall broke me out. But this-” she lifted a hand, gesturing to Jane’s council and the serenity of the throne room- “this gives me hope that we’ll be okay.” 

The Fae council broke apart, their business concluded. Valkyrie strolled into the room, hands in her pockets and body relaxed as though she felt she belonged, just another wonder living within the realm. 

Darcy watched many humanoid Fae get all dreamy-eyed as she passed them, a legendary warrior with the bearing of a queen. Not to mention the fact that she was stunning. 

Darcy’s  _ alive, _ so she noticed. 

And so did Jane, apparently, she thought with some amusement, watching as Jane flushed under Valkyrie’s attention. 

A couple weeks of interaction hadn’t tampered any of the tension between them- the opposite, in fact. There was something heated and deliberate about the space between their bodies, an undertone to every conversation, a second meaning to every shared glance. 

If Darcy didn’t know any better, she’d almost think that Valkyrie was  _ wooing _ Jane. Or at the very least wanted to bend her over the nearest flat surface. 

“Lady Queen, I read those books you suggested.” Valkyrie smiled, body language slow and seductive though her tone was serious. “I have some thoughts on those dogs you keep in the basement.” 

_ “Dogs?” _ Jane asked, torn between amusement and incredulity. 

Thor wandered in just then, slowing as the women turned to watch his approach. He considered the infinitesimal space between their bodies and seemed to suddenly realize that they were two steps ahead of him in whatever dance the three of them were performing. 

Yeah, Darcy saw the direction they were headed. She knew that Jane was bi and apparently had a type for Nordic legendary warriors, the weirdo, so Darcy thought it just might work out. 

“They told you to stay out of the lower levels?” Darcy asked Frigga, knowing better than to engage Loki about any rules that he would make a point to break in full view of the supposed authority. Much like a rebellious cat, Darcy thought, so she treated him as such. 

“They explained about the demons, yes,” Frigga said. “Though I’m a bit confused as to  _ where _ these creatures came from.” 

Darcy shrugged, absently fingering the iron dagger strapped to her thigh. She never entered the Fae realm without it. 

“The stories say that the previous Unseelie Queen bred the Ak’ma from every bit of darkness and evil she possessed. She made them to hunt down her chosen enemies, primarily the sparks of earth. Magic doesn’t affect them, and they can track anything or anyone no matter the distance.” 

“You hate them,” Loki concluded with a curious, assessing gaze. 

Darcy sent him a scathing look, but her voice was flat when she said, “They killed my kind off, one by one. They tried multiple times to kill me, and it was mostly luck that I survived each time. They’re killers.” 

“They’re hunters, doing what they’ve been created to do,” he countered. “How can you deny them their very nature? They can’t help it.” 

“Because people die in brutal, bloody ways when the Ak’ma are unleashed.  _ My _ people, who have no defense against such a monster.” 

“Are they not under the Queen’s control now? Do you not trust her?” 

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t trust the demons, and not all of them subjected themselves to Jane’s rule. Some went rogue.” More than she wanted to think about, really. 

“You’re condemning an entire species for those few, then?” Loki’s interest was fully on her now, a light in his eyes that suggested he was enjoying himself. She made a note to find him a hobby that didn’t make people want to stab him. 

Especially because, horribly, though she’d never admit it, he had a point. One she didn’t want to consider at the moment, or any time soon. 

“Is the guy who tried to take over the world  _ really _ judging me for not wanting to be friends with a bunch of demons?” She asked, arms crossed. He scowled. 

Ha! Point to Darcy. 

“That’s what I thought,” she said before he could respond. “Now, not that this wasn’t fun, but I have to go play fourth wheel in their meeting before the UST gets too out of hand and suffocates us all.” 

“A noble sacrifice,” Frigga murmured, amused, as Darcy spun on her heel and went to help royalty decide how to integrate their people. 

~*~ 

“You know, vigilantes actually boost morale among their neighborhoods?” Imani said cheerfully as Bucky gave her a boost onto a fire escape. 

Darcy followed, Laura and Santiago already on top of the building and scouting their path. 

“I mean, look at Spiderman! New York would literally kill for him. I’m pretty sure he’s a baby, though, someone should definitely look into that.” Imani’s voice carried over the rooftop as she turned to help Darcy over the edge. 

Bucky looked at her with disbelief. “Green Goblin kicked him straight through a skyscraper last week.” 

“So? Superpowers, remember? Kids can have them, too. Don’t be ageist, Grandpa.” 

Bucky frowned. Imani planted her hands on her hips and cocked her head as she studied him. “You’re going to try and lure the baby superhero to the Tower, aren’t you?” 

“No,” Bucky lied. 

“He’s gonna tell Steve,” Darcy said, grinning when Bucky swatted at her. “And that poor kid’s going to have Captain America hovering over him instead.” 

Laura waved them over impatiently from the other side of the roof, Santiago listening closely to something outside of Darcy’s hearing range. 

“I hear a fight,” Laura said, pointing a few rooftops over. 

“We’ve already accidentally broken up three other ‘fights’ that weren’t Daredevil,” Darcy pointed out. 

“Scared the hell out of ‘em, though. Ooh, maybe we’ll get vigilante nicknames, too!” Imani said, enthusiastic. 

“I already have one,” Bucky told her, smug. 

She blew a raspberry at him. “‘Winter Soldier’? Boring. And edgy, ugh, it’s just terrible. I’m embarrassed for you.” 

Bucky mostly just seemed bewildered at her utter lack of fear of his alter ego, even knowing so much of his history. 

It was good for him, Darcy decided, to spend time around people who didn’t take him too seriously. 

Besides, she found his baffled expressions hilarious. 

Laura threw up her hands. “Um, hello? Trying to track down a possible supernatural vigilante before he sets part of New York on fire? Ring a bell?” 

Santi cocked his head. “Someone’s kicking the shit out of some Russian dudes over there.” 

“Sounds like our guy,” Darcy said, leaning over the edge and straining to hear. “Stiles said he was picking fights with all sorts of gangs.” 

“He’s gotta be powered,” Laura decided. “He moves too fast for a human. Wow, sounds like he just won that fight.” 

“Should we go introduce ourselves?” Santi asked, solemn. 

Laura grinned at him. “Let’s do it, babe.” She gestured to the next building over. “Over this roof and into the alley below. Flank him so he doesn’t bolt- hey, wait. Does anyone else hear that?” 

Darcy and Imani looked at each other and shrugged, but Santi had stiffened and begun to move. “Someone else jumped him. I’m thinking... vampires?” 

“Smells like it,” Laura said with a grimace as she leapt over the edge of the roof and onto the next one. “Darce, cover the alley entrance! You two, come on!” 

They jumped, right on her heels, and sprang over the edge of the rooftop to land silently in the dark alley littered with unconscious bodies.

The new fight wasn’t going well for Daredevil, Darcy could tell by his labored breathing and slowed, almost confused motions, like he knew something was off about the newcomers. 

She counted six vampires and wondered who this guy had pissed off. This would be a harder fight than they’d planned for- someone wanted him dead, and they’d sent a team of professional supernatural killers to finish him off. 

Except, well,  _ they’d _ brought an Alpha werewolf, a jaguar shifter, the Winter Soldier, the strongest druid in the city,  _ and _ a spark. 

Daredevil mostly just stayed out of the way when the magic and claws came out, seemingly frozen in place by the growl that ripped out of Laura’s throat as she tore through the vampires. 

“Well,” Laura said, cheerful as her human features slid back into place from the beta shift. “That was fun.” 

Imani wrinkled her nose at the blood spray across the alley walls. “This looks like a slaughterhouse.” 

“Who are you?” Daredevil said. Darcy wandered closer as Bucky melted out of the shadows to stand beside her, positioned between her and the open mouth of the alley. 

“The better question is who you’ve managed to piss off,” Santiago said, kicking aside a stray vampire limb. 

But Laura had frozen in place at the sound of Daredevil’s voice, and did that ridiculously invasive thing that werewolves did when they scented something, crowding uncomfortably close to inhale deeply. 

She frowned deeply, hands on her hips. “…Murdock?” 

Daredevil reared back in shock, nearly smashing his head against the concrete wall at his back. “How-” 

“You  _ know _ him?” Darcy asked, surprised. 

“Matt Murdock,” Laura said, thoughtful. “He’s a lawyer. We’ve crossed paths occasionally, mostly in the courthouse or precinct, though I’ve never noticed anything unusual before. Why is that?” She demanded. 

“What  _ are _ you?” He asked, shuffling away. 

“A werewolf. Try to keep up,” she said impatiently. Murdock choked. 

“Why did someone send vampires after you?” Santi asked while he was still off-balance. 

“Wait, Matt Murdock is  _ blind, _ how are you- hmm, do you have enhanced senses?” Laura interrupted. He flinched reflexively at something Darcy didn’t hear, turning towards Imani, who smiled triumphantly. 

“Yep, that’s it,” Laura said, satisfied. Murdock, successfully steamrolled, didn’t even try to argue. “Back to the question. Who sent vampires after you?” 

“I don’t know anything about vampires,” he said, frustrated. “I’m just trying to-” 

“Trying to what?” Santi asked, pressing. 

“I’m trying to prove that Wilson Fisk is a crime lord trying to take over Hell’s Kitchen.” He sounded defensive, defiant even, as though expecting them to call him crazy. 

But Laura flicked her eyes to Darcy, knowing her sparks would be on top of a potential threat, and Darcy said, “Stiles marked him. We’re watching him, too.” 

“You are?” Murdock asked, urgent. “What do you know?” 

“He’s dating Vanessa Marianna,” Darcy told Laura, who’s eyebrows rose. 

“I could barely find anything on her,” Murdock protested. 

“And you won’t,” Darcy told him. “Stop looking into it, or she’ll come after you herself.” 

But it was interesting that Vanessa had felt threatened by Daredevil’s investigation- either into her or Fisk. Maybe even both. 

Stiles would be vindicated to know his suspicions likely had merit. 

More concerning, though, were the minions that had been sent after Daredevil- presumably by Vanessa- and the implications that vampires in the city working against Julian’s orders. 

Because he wouldn’t have allowed anyone under his rule to attack a human vigilante, much less in a gang that would absolutely draw attention- attention that presented a threat to every vampire in the city. 

Was there a rogue vampire problem in New York? She’d have to look into this, and quickly. They couldn’t afford the fallout if the locals were disobeying orders from the King of Vampires. 

“Watch your step around Vanessa Marianna,” Laura ordered. “Let us handle her. I’ll be in touch next week.” 

“I can meet you at-” 

“No way, I’m coming to your office to see Foggy. Does he know about this?” She gestured to Murdock’s getup with a judgmental expression. “You know what, never mind, of course he doesn’t.” 

“It’s too dangerous for him,” Murdock said lowly. “I have to put a stop to the corruption, and the legal way isn’t working.” 

“Damned Catholic guilt,” Laura muttered. “Go away, I’ll deal with you later.” Someone groaned from deeper within the alley, one of the Russians that Murdock had knocked unconscious finally coming around. 

Daredevil was on top of the building in a flash, staring down at them like some sort of tortured, angsty gargoyle with a desperate need for dramatics and moral superiority. 

“Fucking hell,” Laura sighed when he’d vanished. “Of all people, it had to be Murdock.” 

“You don’t like him?” Imani asked, curious. 

“No, I do, but he has a tendency for self-flagellation and a critical need for penance.” They blinked at her. She shrugged. “At least that’s what his best friend said the last time we got drunk at Josie’s.” 

Imani recoiled. “You go to Josie’s?”

“Werewolf immune system, babe, nothing she serves can kill me,” Laura said, confident. 

Santiago cleared his throat. “These thugs are going to wake up to a bunch of dismembered corpses.” 

Laura considered the remains scattered across the alley, and then shrugged again. “Eh, serves ‘em right. Besides, they’ll turn to ash once the sun rises.” 

“That’s mean,” Imani said, trying and failing to hide the thread of laughter in her voice. She stepped daintily through the alley to join Darcy and Bucky at the entrance. 

“Let’s go,” Bucky said, eyeing the waking gangsters. 

They obeyed, leaving the would-be assassins behind. Laura and Santi fell back a ways, talking quietly between themselves as they turned towards Iron Heights, their mission completed. 

Sirens and car horns sounded in a familiar, asynchronous chorus as the softness of night blanketed the city and its nocturnal rhythms- not quiet by any means, but oddly muted and even dream-like compared to the chaos of a regular weekday in New York. 

Shadows smudged the dirty sidewalks, cloaking sharp corners and yawning hollows between buildings even as gauzy halogen streetlights radiated a spectral glow, casting everything it touched in an eerie orange light.

A cat yowled indignantly somewhere ahead, and Darcy heard laughter and music as they passed an apartment complex. A passing couple argued heatedly about what tv show they were going to watch when they got home. 

“Do you really think Vanessa sent vampires after Daredevil?” Imani asked quietly. 

“Stiles ran across Fisk a while back and didn’t like the feel of him, so we were already looking at him,” Darcy explained. “But Vanessa… I don’t know her well. I mean, she helped me with a pack conflict once in college, and she’s sociable and polished enough to make anyone feel like her friend. But I don’t  _ know _ her.” 

But she knew Vanessa was old, and old vampires were always dangerous. 

They were close enough to Iron Heights that she could see the neighborhood’s favorite cafe, owned by a witch and her fire-proof Fae girlfriend who’s day job was a firefighter. 

The sound of running footsteps caught her attention. Nothing unusual, considering a number of supernatural creatures liked nighttime and running. 

Except Darcy’s spark flared in warning right as a tall, long-haired person barreled around the corner and crashed right into them. 

Bucky snatched Darcy and Imani back, but the stranger collapsed at their feet, breathing so hard they were on the verge of hyperventilating. Their clothes were damp with sweat, hands shaking, dark lashes wet. 

But it was the fearful way they looked over their shoulder with wide, terrified eyes that caught Darcy’s attention. 

She crouched by their side, careful not to crowd them, and ducked her head to catch their eye. “Are you okay? What happened?” 

They finally seemed to catch their breath enough to speak. “Help. Help me, please.” 

Laura and Santi flanked them, eyes sharp on their surroundings. The stranger looked up then, taking in their group and abruptly sagging with relief- as though they’d found exactly who they were running towards. 

“What’s going on?” Imani asked, stepping around the tense human shield Bucky had made himself. 

“Someone’s trying to kill me. Please. Please help me.” They curled into themselves suddenly, a movement born of fierce pain that Darcy was all too familiar with. 

Darcy’s head snapped up to survey the quiet corner, the well-known Iron Heights apartments just visible half a block away. “Santi, Bucky, take the rooftops. Laura, can you track them on foot?” 

“This way?” Laura asked, pointing around the corner as Santi and Bucky leaped onto a nearby fire escape and scaled the building in a handful of seconds. 

“Yes. I didn’t see their face, but they-” the stranger broke off with a pained groan, curled almost in fetal position on the ground. Their raw panic had seemed to fade, though, as if they knew they were safe. 

“What did they do to you?” Darcy leaned forward, reaching with her magic to determine if they’d been cursed or worse. 

Imani reached forward at the same time, touching careful fingertips to their shoulder in reassurance- and they all flinched when she immediately recoiled with a wounded sound and a horrified expression. 

The druid’s face was slack with utter shock as she scrambled back. 

“What?” Darcy asked, sharp and worried. “Imani, what is it?” 

“Their body is tearing itself apart,” she whispered, nearly sick with her terror. The stranger gave a muffled sob from the desperate, excruciating pain, barely coherent. 

“Magic?” 

“Druid magic.” She lifted wide, wet eyes to Darcy’s face. “Darcy, I’ve  _ seen _ this before.” 

“What?” Darcy looked between the stranger and Imani. “How? When?” 

Imani stared down at the shivering person. “This is how my mom almost died.” 

“You saved her,” Darcy remembered, hope dawning with the realization. “You and Malik, you two stopped… whatever this is, and you saved her.” 

“I… we were kids. I don’t even know how we did it.  _ No one _ knows how we did it. It shouldn’t have been possible.” 

“But you did it,” Darcy said, urgent now. “Imani, try. You  _ have _ to try again, or this person will die.” Her magic felt it, something insidious working its way through the stranger’s weakening body, dragging them closer to death with every passing second. 

“I don’t know how,” she said, panicked, shrinking back as though afraid to touch them. Afraid to hurt them worse. 

Bucky returned and rested a hand on her shoulder, calm and encouraging when she whimpered and pressed her face into her hands. 

“I don’t know how I did it, Darcy, I really don’t,” she begged. “I was a  _ kid, _ I didn’t know any of the rules or how magic worked or what was even  _ happening.” _ Bucky made a low, soothing note in his throat as her voice rose in pitch. 

“Hey.” Darcy caught her wrists, pulling her hands away from her face to look her in the eye. The stranger was silent now, horribly so, curled into a tight ball and barely breathing. “What are you always telling me?”

Imani’s breath caught, slowing back to the general vicinity of normal. “I don’t follow the rules, I make them,” she said quietly, ending firmer than she’d started, her confidence returning.

“You got this, Imani,” Darcy said, encouraging. “Just try long enough that we can get them to the Tower.” There were doctors there that specialized in the supernatural, and they could take over if only Darcy could get this stranger there before they died. 

“Okay,” she said, taking a deep breath. “Okay, here goes.” She settled her hands on the stranger’s back and flinched badly again but didn’t pull away. 

Darcy glanced up at Bucky. “Anything?” 

He shook his head. “I broke off so you two weren’t left undefended, in case the assassin circled back for this person. Laura caught a scent, she thinks, and Santi’s shadowing her.” 

“Did you call it in?” 

“Yeah. Hill’s sending a unit to pick us up. ETA six minutes.”

She nodded, returning her focus to Imani, who was swaying in place. “What’s happening, Imani?” 

“Their body is tearing itself apart,” she repeated through gritted teeth. “This magic is ripping their cells apart and shredding anything else it touches.  _ Fuck, _ Darce, this is bad. This is very bad.” 

“Can you stop it?” Darcy asked, calm. 

“I… I don’t know. I can slow it down, but I need Malik. And my dad,” she added, almost ashamedly. 

“No problem, kid,” Bucky assured her, phone in his hands. He stepped away to make the call to the Tower, routing directly to Malik’s lab. 

“Can you trace the origin?” Darcy asked quietly. Her knees were starting to ache, pressed against the cold, hard concrete. 

Imani shook her head, terse. “Not now. I can barely keep up with it, it’s spreading so fast. If this person didn’t have magic, too, they’d be a pile of goo on the ground.” 

Her spark had shown her the same. “Yeah. A witch, right?” 

“Think so. They’re strong, I know that much.” 

Bucky rejoined them, eyes on the approaching headlights and hand tucked under the back of his shirt where she knew his gun rested. “Malik called your dad, Imani. He’ll meet us there. This looks like our ride.” 

But he stepped carefully between them and the oncoming van, apparently as on-edge as Darcy felt, and didn’t relax until Clint jumped out of the back, swinging the doors open and looking between them with concern. 

“What happened?” His eyes went reflexively to the rooftops, checking vantage points and lines of sight like it was as natural as breathing. 

“Long story,” Bucky said. “Help us get them into the car.” 

It took the three of them and the werewolf Clint had brought along to get the stranger into the van without Imani losing her grip. Darcy and Bucky piled in the back with them as Clint raced back to the Tower, the werewolf calling ahead for a medical team to meet them in the garage with a gurney. 

To Imani’s obvious relief, her twin brother waited for her on the medical floor as Helen Cho dragged the gurney off the elevator, Imani perched carefully beside the stranger. 

“Imani?” Malik called, bewildered. He jogged after the gurney, keeping pace as they hurtled through the halls. “What are you doing?” 

“It’s just like Mom,” she said, nearly hysterical. “Malik, it’s just like Mom.” Malik slowed, gaze falling to the still form of the victim. 

Helen Cho’s voice cut through her rising panic, voice calm and unhurried despite their quick pace. “Can you let go?” 

“I think if I do, they’ll die,” Imani admitted. “I’m slowing it down.” 

“Okay, good. Keep doing that. Can you tell me what ‘it’ is that’s doing this?” 

“Decay,” Imani said softly. “It’s accelerated decay rampaging through their body. Magic-based, and essentially unstoppable.”

“And you’ve dealt with it before?” Dr. Cho asked patiently, guiding them into an empty trauma room. “Get a blood sample, and run diagnostics,” she ordered a nurse. 

Imani glanced at Malik, who was hovering behind her with a worried expression. “Once. But it was a lot slower than this.” 

“You mean…?” Malik asked, eyes dark and conflicted. 

“Yeah,” she whispered. 

“Holy  _ shit,” _ someone said in horrified awe. “Dr. Cho, take a look at this.” 

Dr. Cho studied the printout with a grim expression. “Looks like you’re right, Miss Wells.” She studied the young woman, who looked terrified. “As the magic user most familiar with this… disease, I’m going to defer to your judgement. What did you do to stop it before?” 

“They told the God of Death to return another day,” said a new voice from the doorway, “and saved their mother from certain death.” 

“Dad!” Imani jerked like she wanted to lunge for him before remembering that she was fighting a death sentence for the stranger on the bed. 

“Dr. Wells,” Helen said, unsurprised. “I should have known your kids would save the day.” 

“We haven’t yet,” Malik protested. 

“But you will,” his father assured him. He glanced around the room with warm brown eyes, completely composed in the whirlwind of chaos. “I’m Andre Wells, Imani and Malik’s father.” 

“He’s a biochemist researcher at NYU,” Dr. Cho added, skimming through more reports from the frantically beeping machines. She shoved the reports into his hand. “Look at this.” 

“Looks very similar to my wife’s,” he mused after a moment. “But this was a later stage for her. When was this person, ah… infected?” 

“Twenty minutes, maybe thirty,” Darcy told him. He blinked, visibly surprised, and turned to his son. 

“Do you remember what to do?” Malik swallowed hard but nodded. Andre smiled. “Good. Then get to your lab. Imani will keep them stable until you have the first dose.” 

Malik bolted through the door, determination etched on his face. But Imani’s panic returned when the stranger groaned softly. 

“Dad, I can’t.” She was tearful, stressed out of her mind, terrified of making a mistake that would kill the victim. “I can’t. This is too much too fast, I don’t think I can stop it.” 

Andre caught her face between his hands and steadied her, his smile warm and encouraging and so incredibly supportive Darcy felt some of the despair lift from the rest of the room. 

“You don’t have to stop it, Imani. Just slow it down. Give Malik time to grow something to combat it. Remember how he did that for your mom?” 

“He put it in her tea,” she said with a wet laugh. “And hovered over her sickbed until she drank it all.” 

“Every last drop,” Andre said, grinning. “And she didn’t have the heart to tell him his tea tasted so bad it made her gag. So all you have to do is buy him time. Can you do that?” 

Imani closed her eyes and took a deep, bracing breath. Her dad let her lean on him, steady and reassuring, until she opened her eye with a fierce light of determination. “I can.” 

“Good girl,” he said proudly. Then he backed away to let her work, keeping well within her sight line as he joined Darcy and Bucky along the wall so Dr. Cho could work. 

“She’s a brave kid,” Bucky said softly. 

Andre smiled. “They’re the best thing I’ve ever done with my life.”

“Imani said she and Malik stopped this when your wife got sick in the same manner,” Darcy said.

“Jada got sick when the kids were still young. Eleven or twelve. We didn’t know what was happening, doctors couldn’t give us a straight answer, but one day Imani held her hand and suddenly broke down in tears. She couldn’t explain what upset her, just that the black stuff was trying to hurt Jada.” 

“She could see it,” Darcy realized. “The magic?” 

Andre nodded. “Seemed like it. My dad died when I was young, and I never knew that he was a druid or that I had my own powers until they’d grown latent from years of neglect. But that magic still passed onto my kids, apparently, and thank god my mother figured it out before I thought I’d lost my mind.” 

Darcy gestured to Imani. “They’re the strongest druids I’ve ever encountered.” 

“They operated on pure instinct for years before we caught on,” he explained. “No formal training, but my dad was apparently very strong as well.” 

Two powerful druids who’d never been indoctrinated into the rigid druid training at a young age like all the others. Their magics had a creativity and individuality that made them virtually untouchable in terms of raw strength. 

Two kids with their mother’s life on the line and something powerful and nurturing under their skin? They wouldn’t know that limits existed, and maybe that’s why they succeeded. 

Darcy could almost see the two of them, young and unstoppable, huddled together in the dark as they planned how to save their mom. And then they did. 

She turned at a brief commotion, finding Laura and Santiago waiting in the hallway. Laura shook her head, unhappy, when Darcy raised a brow in question. 

Damn. 

She studied the faces of those working furiously to save the life of the victim, tracking the anxious glances at Dr. Cho for instruction and Imani’s exhausted face. There was a faint pulse of green light emitting from her palms, and her head was bowed in concentration. 

Darcy wondered who this stranger was, that they’d drawn the attention of an assassin. A lucky coincidence that they’d stumbled right into Imani, who’d fought this kind of magic before and won. 

Who was capable of such a thing? This wasn’t a curse, and her own magic couldn’t sink that deep into someone else’s makeup without doing potentially irreversible or even fatal damage. 

Imani looked up just then, eyes dark and angry. “Darcy.” 

“Did you find something?” She asked quietly, stepping forward to hear her over the beeping machines and mutterings between the medical staff. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.” Imani’s expression promised retribution. “I know the origins of the power that’s destroying this person, and that tried to kill my mom.” 

Darcy braced herself. “Tell me.” 

Imani’s voice was dark when she said, “This was created with druid magic, and it’s been weaponized for killing.” 


	9. Naomi: Politics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your kind comments ❤️They reminded me how much I enjoy sharing my writing with you all, and I really do appreciate it. I'm going to do my best to continue to update as I write Darcy's chapters. 
> 
> Thank you again ❤️❤️❤️

**4: POLITICS**

_**Naomi** _

A prickly msano fruit sailed across the table, snatched out of the air by Prime Darius only a second before it splattered against Soraya’s head. The General slowly raised her head from her plate and narrowed dark eyes at the youngest royal sibling. Darius set the fruit on her plate and returned to his conversation with Vahid without missing a beat. 

“Darius just saved your life, Esteri,” Kaveh said with a bright laugh, flicking a grape-like fruit at her that she tried and failed to bat aside. 

“I was aiming for  _ you!” _ Esteri protested, but she grinned sheepishly at her older sister. “You know I have bad aim, Sor.” 

Soraya’s response was dry, but Naomi didn’t catch the words, too distracted by the memory of Soraya’s threats from only days ago. She seemed to be keeping the information to herself- at least for now. Naomi wondered when she would strike. 

Across from Naomi, Rahim shook his head at his siblings’ antics. His plate had been nudged aside early into their lunch, left mostly untouched as he read a book written in a language she didn’t recognize. Seated beside him, Noor scowled at the full plate and pushed it closer to him with a meaningful look that Rahim ignored. 

Naomi saw the tip of Sayali’s nose appear briefly above Noor’s lap, vanishing once more beneath the table after he’d slipped her a giant slab of Lankau meat. 

The Lankau were the most interesting creatures she’d encountered so far in this realm. Massive herbivores with rubbery blue skin stretched over a frame twice the size of an elephant, they had wide snouts extending from the very center of their faces, eyesight that only saw as far as forty feet with any clarity, and terrible hearing. 

Four legs tapered to split pink hooves, but despite the length of their thick, muscled limbs they could barely manage a pace quicker than an ambling jog. Anything faster and they grew so uncoordinated that they collapsed in a tangle of limbs. Their bellowing cries could deafen anyone standing too close to a herd, the easily domesticated animals kept on the outskirts of the massive city for exactly that reason. 

The Lankau were, frankly, an evolutionary slap in the face, and somehow they’d survived just fine in this realm despite literally _everything about them-_ even if no one could quite explain  _ how. _ Naomi personally found it hilarious. 

She saw the corner of Rahim’s mouth curl up when Sayali snuffled noisily at Noor’s hands again after a few minutes, obviously searching for more handouts. Noor huffed quietly at her, but Naomi felt the breeze from Sayali’s wagging tail and knew he’d caved. 

Seconds later, though, Noor abruptly stiffened in place. She watched in confusion when his nostrils flared and he scented the air deeply before touching careful fingertips to Rahim’s arm without changing his ever-neutral expression. 

Rahim’s face tightened at the touch, his hands suddenly clenched roughly around the open edges of the book. His siblings watched him closely now, Kaveh’s open joy fading fast and Esteri looking at him with wounded eyes as Darius’s expression became grim. 

But Soraya flicked her gaze from Noor to Naomi and Vahid and then back again. Noor nodded once in understanding and stood, touching Rahim with slight urgency now. 

Rahim jerked away and stood, nodding stiffly to Naomi and Vahid before stalking out of the room with Noor on his heels. Baffled, Naomi shared a glance with Vahid, who looked as confused as she felt. But the others quickly moved the conversation along before they could ask any questions. 

She pondered the possible reasons for the bizarre exchange as she walked the streets of Nova Solis later that afternoon. It had seemed like a warning of some sort, she thought, but for what? 

More questions, fewer answers. It seemed to be standard procedure in Nova Solis these days, at least for her and Vahid. 

Sayali rumbled quietly at her side shortly into their walk towards the trading markets. Naomi glanced down at the Arcos, noticed that her long tapered ears were flicking irritably towards something behind them. 

“I know,” she assured Sayali. 

High Mage Ziadie had followed them from the moment she’d left lunch with the royals. She’d felt the viscous touch of his magic brush against the live wire that was her spark before it quickly retreated. But the High Mage still hounded her footsteps. 

“What does he want?” She muttered to herself, annoyed with the stalking routine. Especially because he wasn’t very good at it, and seemed to take her for some kind of idiot. Naomi pursed her lips in thought and then made a decision. Time to get some answers.

“Sayali,  _ dhaeris, niar, ehcies.” _ She used the Nakano commands for their hunting companions-  _ seek, follow, hide. _ Sayali would peel off, circle around and come up behind Ziadie to follow him. She’d remain hidden until Naomi called for her or needed defending. 

The Arcos wagged her tail- always pleased to hunt- and used the cover of the busy path to slip away. Naomi marveled at her ability to remain unseen, moving from shadow to shadow like a wraith. Despite her impressive size, hardly anyone noticed her dart between cover until she could vanish entirely from sight down a parallel street. 

Naomi kept her pace even but brisk, winding through the crowded markets until Ziadie had to come closer or risk losing sight of her. And then she saw the largest intersection of the market just ahead, saw her chance and stepped sideways to press herself against the outer wall of a house. 

A small face poked out of the window right beside her head, nose wiggling as the baby shifter scented her presence. The little girl- five or six at most- blinked curiously at Naomi, who raised a finger to her lips in the universal signal to remain quiet as Ziadie stomped past, looking around with obvious frustration. The shifter child grinned conspiratorially at her and disappeared again with a cheerful wave. 

Smiling, Naomi slipped out of the shadows and fell into step with Ziadie, who tripped over himself in shock at her sudden appearance. 

“Is there something I can help you with, High Mage Ziadie?” She asked, her friendly tone at odds with the iron-hard look in her eyes. 

He hurriedly straightened, smoothing down his deep purple robes and looking back at her with suspicion. “Not at all, Lady Spark. I was just heading into the markets myself.” 

Naomi hummed in response, walking casually along. A dark shape moved in the corner of her vision and stayed there, just outside of Ziadie’s awareness. “Convenient. I was coming to explore them myself.” 

“I hear Rahim had to excuse himself from lunch,” he said with a quick, testing glance her way. “Odd, that he misses so many public events these days.” 

“Were you lurking outside the room, or do you stalk everyone in the palace these days?” She asked politely. He tensed, his magic flaring green in her vision. “Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” 

“I’m the strongest of the Mages in the city,” he told her without arrogance, jaw tight. “Is your magic enough to defeat mine?” 

She shrugged, unconcerned. The depth of her magic was something she’d like to keep out of the Mages’ awareness entirely. “Possibly. Perhaps not, though. Regardless, I was referring to my Arcos watching you for any sudden movements.” 

High Mage Ziadie paled, just now realizing that Sayali was no longer at her side. He was so young, Naomi thought absently, watching him scan the area for the lethal canid. So inexperienced. This brief espionage play shouldn’t have worked against a High Mage, and he should never have forgotten about Sayali. Had no one trained him in political espionage? Hard to believe, considering his rank, but who the hell knew what the Mages taught their students.

“If you play nice she won’t eat you,” Naomi said blandly when he finally caught sight of Sayali’s eyes glowing electric blue in the shadows of a side street. “Probably.”

“What do you want?” He asked tightly, attention never wavering from the Arcos hunting him. 

She was thrown off guard for a moment. “What do you mean?” 

“Every magic user in the city can feel you,” he snapped, “but no one can get a grasp on the extent of your magic. You haven’t approached the Ruling Council of Mages for a position or testing, but I’m told by my advisors that you’re strong enough to be a serious threat to the entire Ruling Council if you so choose. So, again, what do you  _ want?” _

“Nothing to do with the Ruling Council, that’s for damned sure,” Naomi said slowly. Who was whispering in this guy’s ear, telling him that she was coming for his position as High Mage? Skies above, no wonder he was so twitchy around her. “I’m neck deep in bullshit dragon politics, in case you hadn’t noticed.” 

“Those are more related than you’d think.” He swallowed when Sayali took a slow step closer. “There were… circumstances surrounding Natoya’s death that meant a magic user was likely involved.” He seemed to think she’d know this already, but everyone outside of the royal family was under the impression that she and Vahid had been living across  _ this _ realm rather than in a different one entirely. Awkward, and very difficult to explain something that the dragons wanted kept quiet.

Especially since the portal seemed to be mostly forgotten about otherwise- and she knew now, thanks to Idri, that no one outside of the royal family and High Sages believed in the possibility that Nia would still be holding the anchor on Earth. To everyone else in Nova Solis, the portal was inactive, just a rift in time and space that they’d flown through once upon a time. 

It was, to her understanding, an open secret that everyone seemed content to ignore. 

“Right, and now you’re conveniently in her position, the highest leadership role for magic users in the city. It’s really interesting how well that worked out for you, Ziadie.” 

He loomed over her, temper flaring. “It was  _ proven _ to the Ruling Council that I had nothing to do with her death! You can’t try and pin this on me, spark, I know you’re up to something. And I’m going to find out what.” 

Naomi was mostly just tired of being so fucking  _ confused _ all the time. She opened her mouth to say something rude and scathing and probably make things worse than they already were, only to be interrupted by a visibly concerned Consul Tahj. 

“Is everything all right here?” Consul Tahj joined them, Consul Radia on his heels with her dark silky hair pinned in a complicated updo and held in place with an ivory comb. 

They looked between Naomi and High Mage Ziadie with mild alarm, evidently appalled that the two knew each other well enough to fight and that their argument was happening in the middle of the street. 

“Consuls,” Ziadie greeted stiffly, suddenly wary at the sight of them. “We were just debating a few things. All in good spirit.” 

Oh,  _ good, _ he was a liar, too. 

She didn’t contradict him, though, aware that the Consuls were growing more concerned about the obvious tension by the second. “I’m not certain High Mage Ziadie knows the meaning of good spirit, but there’s nothing to worry about here.” 

Now Ziadie was scowling at her again, but what else was new. 

She dropped her arms down by her sides and gave a short hand signal that had Sayali trotting over, her blue-black fur standing on end but no menacing snarls escaping from her throat… yet. 

High Mage Ziadie finally gave a brusque nod and departed, purple robes swirling around his lanky form as he stalked away. The crowds parted for him, any robed Mages dipping their heads in respectful acknowledgement of their passing leader. 

“What was that about?” Consul Tahj asked, watching him go with his brows raised. 

“I’m not entirely sure,” Naomi admitted. 

“No one knows what his deal is. Ugh, I miss Natoya,” Consul Radia said. “She was a snob, but at least she wasn’t as pissy as Ziadie.” 

“You knew her well?” Naomi asked, interested. So few discussed the former High Mage, Sargon’s selected advisor from the Ruling Council of Mages even before she’d become the High Mage, at least according to the records in the library. 

Radia shrugged, a fluid movement that made her pastel blue, paper-thin dress shiver over her lithe body. “As well as anyone knows a Mage involved with the Council. They like their secrets.” 

“Can we escort you anywhere, Lady Spark?” Consul Tahj asked, friendly. “Consul Radia and I were just about to return to the palace.” 

“Thank you, but no. I’m on my way to meet Idri.”

Consul Tahj grinned, which lit up his face appealingly. “Ah. Best not to keep the High Sage waiting, then. We will see you tomorrow, I expect?” 

Naomi cursed internally, remembering the party that Esteri was throwing for the upper classes within the city in celebration of some custom that started only two hundred solar cycles ago. It was likely not a party that she and Vahid would be able to beg off of. 

At least this party only lasted a night- the upcoming Festival of Nova Solis celebrated the creation of the flying city and lasted nine whole days and nights. She was looking forward to it, sure, but nine days of partying was a bit much to ask for a human staring down forty. 

“Yes, Vahid and I will be there.” She said her goodbyes, noticing a flicker of pink in the corner of her vision as an Ocak soared by. Sayali leaned against her legs as she pricked her ears to follow the bird’s progress. 

Naomi shivered a little as the breeze picked up, her high waisted pants and cropped shirt providing little guard against the cooler temperatures this high in the air. Her coat wasn’t much use either- dragons dressed for style over comfort, which  _ they _ could do, considering they had their own fire magic to keep them warm. 

A drop of her spark warmed her easily, though, and she buried her fingers in Sayali’s thick fur until they were warm again before telling the Arcos, “Okay, let’s go find Idri before someone else finds us and tries to pick a fight.” 

She would meet Idri at the sprawling building that housed the Ruling Council for Mages in order to learn more about how the society of magic-users functioned within the city. 

Magic was different in this realm, regardless of where it originated from. There were blurred lines between types of magic here, entirely new powers she’d never seen back home, and a mastery over elemental magics that hardly seemed possible. 

Besides the elementals, Naomi had seen healers cure illnesses that would have crippled or killed humans, highly skilled fabric-makers and Weavers, Mages capable of changing their physical appearance at whim, and- the most impressive, in her opinion- the weather Mages capable of creating devastating storms. 

The Ruling Council for Mages acted as a guild of sorts. Mages paid dues to be a part of it and in return they received jobs and contracts for work throughout the city before anyone else- besides the fact that being a part of the guild gave them a respectable rank in a city obsessed with societal classes. 

There were Mages outside of the guild, of course, a growing number of magic users that avoided it for any number of reasons. Many, she knew, worked on the trade ships that flew in once a week, their abilities valued more on those dangerous trips across the seas and skies. 

The only thing they all had in common was that none of them knew what to make of her. The Mages within the guild regarded her with mistrust for politely refusing their offer to join and, more importantly, to go through their tests of her abilities. 

The Mages outside of the guild were only slightly friendlier- she’d won some points with them, apparently, for refusing the guild’s offer. That camaraderie only extended so far, though, since the Mages outside of the guild guarded their jobs and contracts with extreme prejudice. Most saw her as a threat like any other non-guild-affiliated Mage. 

She wasn’t holding out much hope for that changing anytime soon, but at the moment Naomi had bigger things to worry about than relations with Mages. She’d work on it after she and Vahid got to the bottom of the mess in the palace… assuming they avoided a conveniently timed demise, of course. 

~*~ 

_ She dreamed of fire.  _

_ Of fire and smoke and screaming, of the earth shaking itself apart beneath her feet. Of clouds of dust and ash billowing into the air as white stone crumbled all around her, the heavy beat of wings overhead that jarred Naomi all the way to her bones.  _

_ Hot, bright bursts of pain seared through her from a different kind of fire, an ancient magic stirring and latching onto the beacon that was her spark.  _

_ A sleeping giant awakening as a city fell to ruin, an entity that was timeless, boundless, and had witnessed the rise and fall of civilizations before and mourned none of them.  _

_ But this time was different. This time something walked the streets of the city so high above, something that had woken the magic in the first place. With the first stirring of interest, the magic reached for the spark burning so brightly in the sky.  _

Naomi woke. 

She had to swallow past the lump of fear threatening to choke her, focused instead on the soft darkness of the room and Vahid’s comforting warmth at her side. 

The air was cool this high up, the city and palace cold enough that she spent her nights burrowed close to the ridiculously warm dragon sharing her bed. 

At some point, though, she’d made her way to the edge of the plush mattress. Her bare skin was pebbled with goosebumps from the chill, the heavy blankets kicked away and leaving her exposed to the insistent cold. She shivered and dragged them back over her, huddling beneath them for warmth.

Across the room she could just make out Sayali’s massive frame, sprawled out on her back by the obsidian fireplace and paws twitching with her own dream. It made Naomi smile, chased away the last dredges of fear that lingered in the reaching shadows of the room. 

Had it been a dream or a vision? For once she wasn’t sure, and she didn’t know what to make of that, either. 

Regardless, it was troubling. Part of her hoped it was just a dream, her subconscious overwhelmed by the onslaught of tension and uncertainty from the past few months, but something about it felt… real. Tangible, a warning of an event that would come to pass in the near future, leaving Nova Solis decimated as a result of an attack or plot against the city. 

Which just meant that she had to root out those secrets before the city fell. No pressure.

A warm hand skimmed across her belly, startling her out of her dark thoughts. She turned her head to find Vahid blinking sleepily at her with worried silver eyes. 

“Hi,” she said, voice rough from sleep.

Vahid’s hand flexed against her skin but he made no other movement as he said softly, “You slept poorly again.” 

Sayali snuffled in her sleep and rolled to her side with an audible thump, unconcerned with either of them at the moment. 

“Bad dreams,” she murmured, and sat up when he did. The sheets pooled around her hips and she tugged off her nightcap to free her hair, knowing she’d never get back to sleep after that dream. 

Vahid’s hand slipped around her waist to spread against the small of her back as she leaned against him and admitted, “The dreams were worrying. It might have been a vision. I couldn’t tell.” 

He hummed quietly. “Is there anything we can do about it now?” 

She smiled at how easily he soothed her anxiety, pressed her lips to his pulse point and said, “No,” into his skin. His palm flattened against her back as she made her way up to his jaw, lingering on the most sensitive places of his neck. 

“Then perhaps,” his voice became strained as she slid a hand under the sheets over his lap and stroked him, “we should focus on other things.” 

“Perhaps we should,” she agreed solemnly, then laughed when there was a rush of air and her back hit the mattress. Her laugh turned to a low gasp when his teeth scraped over a nipple, tugged carefully and then laved his tongue over it to ease the sting. 

His hands skimmed down her sides, coming to rest on her hips to pin her to the bed. “A distraction is in order, I believe,” he said against her belly, and then disappeared beneath the sheets. 

The first touch of his tongue had Naomi writhing, clutching at the sheets and biting back the sounds trying to climb out of her throat. Firm, warm hands held her in place and the low, quiet rumble from Vahid had her tipping over the edge before she could catch her breath. 

She heaved for air, dazed and a little stunned from the sudden orgasm, as he kissed his way back up her body, lingering on her mouth. She arched against him, hands sliding along smooth skin stretched tight over the lean muscles of his back, feeling the flex of those muscles as he reached for the oils. 

She swore when he pressed into her, slow and gentle as he filled her. Her mind was a haze, unable to focus on anything but the feel of him against her, the intensity behind every look, every touch. 

Vahid whispered words in low, rich tones in a blend of languages into her skin. She flushed at the subvocal sound in his throat as he moved against her, at the deliberate inhale against her throat, the open-mouth kisses he trailed from her jaw and over her breasts. 

He rose above her, hips rocking against hers, and she saw a shadow of wings unfurl behind him in the dark room, there and gone again in a blink. It made something tighten low in her belly, a jolt of lust and heat that had her moving urgently against his steady thrusts and choking out a moan when his hand slipped down to move over the bundle of nerves slick from her body and the oil. 

Vahid sped up in response, answering her wordless pleas. A low noise tore from his throat, something dark and dangerous that pushed her over the edge. Her mind went white, pleasure flooding every sense when Vahid planted a hand by her head and fucked her through it until he was coming, too, spilling inside her with a low groan. 

She should maybe look into the sudden danger kink, Naomi thought breathlessly, a little amused at her body’s knee jerk responses to the deadly predator that Vahid kept leashed just below the surface. It was getting embarrassing- or would, anyway, if she was similarly affected by anyone but him. 

She’d had a few brief moments of doubt, following him to another world that she didn’t know. Doubt because she hadn’t known him for very long, technically, and most of their time together was spent facing down one threat or another. 

But the bond between them went beyond the heat of the moment from life-threatening situations. The foundation of their relationship was built on a foundation of mutual respect, appreciation, and honesty. Of shared loss and providing a respite for the other’s grief. 

She’d never fallen for someone so quickly, so deeply, but Naomi didn’t want to fight it. She let it happen, let herself open up past the fear of losing someone else she loved. And her life was so much richer because of it. Because of  _ him. _

“You’re thinking very hard for someone who just expounded a lot of energy,” he grumbled into her shoulder. 

She grinned helplessly at the marble ceiling. “I love you.” 

He raised his head, black hair a wild mess. She raised a hand to tame the strands as he blinked at her, pleased. “I love you, too.” 

“Well, that’s a relief,” she teased. “Considering I followed you to another world and all.” 

He softened. “Yes, but the relief is mine, Naomi. I would be lost without you here with me.” He traced her cheekbone with this thumb. “You gave up a lot to be here with me.” 

She ached for her parents, sometimes, but that door wasn’t shut entirely. And maybe when things weren’t so unstable here, she could bring her parents to this realm with her, to show them the wonders that this world held. 

As for Darcy and Stiles… well. She still woke sometimes in a panic, thinking of all the things she hadn’t told or taught them, things they needed to know. She worried about all the threats that still existed for sparks in their realm, friendly Fae queens or not. 

But part of guiding them meant letting them go, giving them a chance to find their own way. She had to trust that they were capable, knew they had each other’s backs. Those reminders- often from Vahid- soothed the raw panic that threatened to overwhelm her sometimes. 

She leaned up and kissed him, slow and long and deep, sinking into the heat of his touch. “I think,” he said against her mouth, “I will have breakfast brought to us.” 

“Good idea,” she said, but rolled them before he could leave. “But in a minute.” His agreement was a muffled sound.

Hours later, Naomi watched Sonia as the Nakano woman muttered unflattering things under her breath about dragons and their impatience. Vahid endured the woman’s bad temper with grace as she did one final fitting for their outfits for the upcoming party. 

Naomi admired the lean lines of Vahid’s body, put on display by the sheer black shirt with a shimmering overlay that glittered like tiny constellations against his gold-brown skin. His pants were a dark, velvet-like fabric that fit him like a second skin, undershot with veins of crimson. As she watched, he shifted on his feet and the tiny threads of color caught the light beautifully, shining blood red against the night-black fabric. 

Vahid shifted again. Sonia twisted around and pointed a threatening finger at Naomi. “Stop it.” 

Naomi schooled her face into an expression of polite confusion. “Stop what?”

“Stop thinking dirty thoughts about your dragon, he’s getting all hot under the collar.” She flicked the thin material of his shirt as he flushed. “This will ignite like tissue over a flame, you understand? Don’t you dare ruin my hard work.” 

Naomi had to turn away to hide her grin at Vahid’s meek agreement. Her own outfit was spread across the bed and she took a moment to just stare at it in awe. 

A high collar faded to long sleeves, a tight-fitting bodice, and a swirling floor-length skirt. It matched the same blood-red of the veins in Vahid’s pants- the same as his wings, interestingly, though to her knowledge Sonia had never seen him shifted. 

More interesting was the opening that left the dress totally backless and the long slit up the thigh that would show off the ribbon of runes tattooed along her leg. But the most arresting part of the dress were the shimmering black dragon scales fused to the long sleeves like an armor, gathering below the collarbones and spreading out along the upper bodice of the dress in an intricate pattern. 

She knew, logically, that any scales the dragons shed were gathered and used for  _ something, _ but she’d yet to ask what. 

Fashion was apparently one answer. 

Their rooms were big enough for Vahid to shift in and he did, frequently. She supposed Sonia had been collecting the shed scales all along and had to admire the woman’s ingenuity. 

“Your talents are unparalleled, Lady Weaver,” Vahid told Sonia as Naomi stripped and carefully stepped into the dress. He watched the dress slide over her body, fitting tightly, and his eyes flashed a volcanic black at the sight of his dragon scales along her arms. 

“I make those fools at the guild look like amateurs,” Sonia agreed with a sniff, but she had a pleased gleam in her eye. “Hold still, you, I need to fasten that collar.” 

Naomi obeyed, standing patiently as Sonia fastened the collar around her throat and smoothed the skirt, fussing over the bodice for a moment before stepping back to study her with satisfaction. “You’ll cause quite the stir, Lady Spark.” 

“Is that what you were aiming for?” She asked, brow raised. Sonia just shrugged with a private smile and went back to threatening Vahid should any harm come to the shirt. 

Naomi’s hair was in loose, springy curls around her face tonight, and she’d let Sonia apply gold eyeliner and dark lip stain made from a lovely scented flower that grew in the royal gardens. 

“This is fulfilling all of my childhood dreams about gowns and royal balls,” she informed Vahid as they left their rooms after Sonia’s final approval. Sayali trotted along at her side, freshly bathed by the two kids who’d had the time of their lives washing the Arcos in their room’s enormous bathtub. 

“You dreamed of gowns and dances?” Vahid asked with a fond smile. 

Naomi remembered years of watching princess movies as a child and wanting with a sharp ache- the dress, the story, the happy ending. The security in your identity, to know who you were and to love yourself regardless of what society told you to be. 

“I did. This is better,” she said simply. Honestly. 

Vahid’s response cut short as they rounded a corner and nearly slammed into two men having a fierce, whispered conversation. Consul Faraco froze midway through his angry gesture as High Mage Ziadie hurriedly backed away from them. 

“Consul Faraco, High Mage,” Vahid said smoothly, eyes darting between them. “I apologize for the interruption. We were just on our way to the celebration.” 

“Ah,” Consul Faraco cleared his throat, smoothing out his orange tunic with quick, nervous motions. “Of course. We were just on our way as well.” He took a closer look at Naomi, suddenly, and frowned severely. “You let your consort wear your scales?” 

His tone suggested that he thought very little of consorts, despite the fact that she had her own separate rank from Vahid despite the scales on her dress that marked her as his chosen partner. 

Faraco, from what she’d gathered so far, was one of the conservative or “traditional” dragons. He saw dragons as superior to other races, and frequently spoke against those who threatened his status. 

Naomi didn’t concern herself with Faraco’s blustering. His opinions were irrelevant to her, and the royal family barely tolerated his bullshit. Vahid, on the other hand, spent a lot of time watching Faraco with narrowed silver eyes just to make him squirm. 

Vahid rumbled dangerously. “Naomi is a spark, Consul Faraco. I advise you to remember that she bears her own rank separate from my own within the palace, and regardless of your personal views on non-dragons you will treat her with respect.”  _ Or else _ was heavily implied.

Consul Faraco looked like he’d just been kicked in the head by a Lankau, Ziadie seemed to be enjoying the Consul’s discomfort immensely, and Naomi privately wondered if there was a dark corner nearby that she could drag Vahid off to and thoroughly debauch him. 

The Consul sputtered a response as Vahid blinked quicksilver eyes at him with a steady regard that made Naomi think of a lion on a hunt. Finally, Vahid cocked his head and said magnanimously, “I’m glad we understand each other,” and guided Naomi past them both. 

Sayali snapped her massive jaws at both men as she passed, delighting in their instinctive flinch before she caught up, tail waving. 

“I cannot stand that man,” Vahid muttered as they entered the ballroom. “Though I apologize- I know you can defend yourself, but that particular idiot values dragons above all else. You would have had to smother him before he acknowledged you as a threat.” 

Naomi laughed. “Trust me, I’m not upset about that little display.” She gave him a meaningful look, let the heat she felt show on her face. He watched her eyes burn gold for a heavy, intense moment, and then jerked back, swallowing hard. 

“If I light this shirt on fire Sonia will skin me alive,” he hissed. She watched, amused, as he reached for a drink carried by a passing servant and took a long draw. 

Esteri darted through the room in a blur of pink tulle, bright and loud and beaming. She whirled past them, pressed a kiss to both their cheeks, and vanished in the crowd without missing a beat. Vahid sighed after her, finding himself suddenly empty handed. Naomi laughed at him, at least until he decided to go say hello to Prime Darius and Soraya, holding court near the center of the room. 

“Yeah, no, I’ll find you later,” she said, squirming out of reach. She had no desire to deal with Soraya’s hostility tonight, who treated Vahid with far less suspicion than Naomi. He relented after ensuring Sayali still sat at her side, watching the crowd with bright, interested eyes. 

“What do you think?” She asked the Arcos. “Drinks first, or food?” Sayali’s answer was to flick her ears back with a low grumble, eyes fixated on a sudden presence behind Naomi. 

“I’m impressed, Lady Spark,” Consul Faraco said. 

Naomi rolled her eyes and turned to face him. “Impressed, Consul?” 

“You’ve snatched up the highest ranking non-royal dragon in Nova Solis- perhaps even within dragon society- and thoroughly ensnared him.” While most of the dragons in this world lived within their flying city, there were a handful of wanderers or dragons who resided in other cities scattered across the globe. She knew, obviously, that Vahid was highly ranked in dragon society.

“Ensnared him?” She repeated, disbelief coloring her voice. Naomi was hardly capable of  _ ensnaring _ anyone, much less a centuries old dragon. “Do you not believe that Vahid is capable of making his own decisions?” 

“When a Mage such as yourself is involved,” Consul Faraco sneered, “he may not have a choice. Consul Vahid deserves to be with his own kind.” 

“He deserves to be with who he chooses,” she countered, annoyed and trying not to let it show. “I find it arrogant of you to assume you know what’s best for him. As for the comment implying I’ve somehow magicked him into loving me… Well. I thought your kind were better educated than that, but I am evidently mistaken.”

Consul Faraco bristled, drawing himself up to his full height. Which was, she noted with satisfaction, two or three inches shorter than  _ her _ full height. Sayali gave a short warning growl, teeth bared, when he made to step into Naomi’s space. 

Another whirlwind of noise and flare of bright-hot power made him pause as a royal joined them. 

Kaveh handed Naomi a glass of wine and smiled winningly at the Consul.  “Faraco! Surely you’re not antagonizing my friend here. She  _ is _ one of the Prime’s future advisors- not to mention being personally trained by our venerated High Sage.” 

“I am also one of the Prime’s top advisors,” Consul Faraco snapped. “You forget yourself, Kaveh.” 

Kaveh leaned in with a conspiratorial smile to tell Naomi, “The esteemed Consul here thinks I’m just a stupid army grunt. What was it you said? ‘The royal of least value?’” 

The Consul flushed. 

Kaveh smiled again, this time with all of his teeth. “What Faraco forgets is that even the least royal is thrice as powerful as any of our dragonkin.” He sipped his drink, unruffled by and possibly even delighting in the underlying tension in the conversation. “I urge you to remember this, Consul Faraco, and the fact that none of us truly know what this spark is capable of. Something tells me the depth of her power is equal to nothing we’ve seen before.” 

Naomi watched the royal carefully now, neither of them paying much attention as Faraco snatched up a nearby drink and stalked off, shoving rudely past Noor. 

“An Arcos and her prey,” Rahim teased as he joined them. Noor shadowed him, his hair in a half-hearted braid. “Do not provoke Naomi, brother, or Esteri will have to hurt you for ruining her party when the spark flattens you.” 

“I just rescued her from Faraco,” Kaveh said, indignant. “He’s in rare form tonight.” They all turned to watch Consul Faraco glower in their direction, huddled with another advisor across the room. 

“Don’t worry, I just slipped a dungbeetle into his drink,” Noor said in such a bored tone that his words took a moment to register. When they did Naomi had to clap a hand over her mouth to muffle the laugh that burst forth. 

Kaveh had no such restraint. He threw his head back and cackled, his humor contagious even to those not in on the joke. Rahim cracked a smile, watching his twin with open affection. 

“This is why we keep you around, Noor,” Kaveh announced, slinging a muscled arm around the shifter’s neck. 

Noor rolled his eyes. “That is not why you keep me around.” 

“No, but it’s a benefit for sure.” Kaveh tried to drag him off, but Noor hesitated and glanced back at Rahim. 

“Go, entertain my brother. I’ll be fine,” Rahim ordered, adjusting his white and gold regalia to cover the flash of annoyance. 

But Naomi caught it, and so did Noor, whose mouth tightened as he finally let Kaveh haul him away. Rahim watched them go, Noor’s obvious reluctance clashing with Kaveh’s eager attempts to lure him into an alarmingly complex drinking game. 

Rahim’s shoulders drooped when Noor finally turned away. Naomi suddenly realized how frail he looked, thin and brittle under the warm torchlight. 

Before she could say anything, though, to offer comfort or quiet support, Rahim nodded towards a dragon making a beeline for Vahid. “You’ll want to watch out for that one,” he warned. “She’s a notorious social climber.” 

Naomi watched the dragoness flutter attractively around Vahid, undeterred by the vicious hickey Naomi had sucked into his skin earlier that day in clear view above his clothing. For his part, Vahid was growing tenser by the second.

“Hm. Would you care to help me scare her off? She doesn’t seem to be taking no for an answer.” Rahim smiled and offered his arm. 

In general, Naomi was not a jealous or territorial person. She was also not insecure enough to feel threatened by a stranger approaching Vahid, dragon or not, and she trusted him implicitly. 

But she didn’t like his growing discomfort now as the woman deliberately steamrolled right past his attempts to disengage.  Vahid received a lot of attention from the dragons at court, both for his position as an advisor to Prime Darius and his connections to the royal family. Most were deterred by his cool but polite rejections, and those who weren’t found the promise of violence in her eyes shortly after. 

This one in particular was only persuaded to leave after Naomi politely offered to make her, Rahim silent but watchful at her side and Sayali pacing around them in pointedly shrinking circles. 

“The next person to touch you without your permission,” Naomi told Vahid severely, “will be thrown off of this floating rock.” 

“They can fly,” Rahim reminded her, humor lighting his dark eyes. 

“Not after I’m finished with them,” she muttered, tangling her fingers with Vahid’s as Sayali flopped across their feet with a huff of agreement. 

He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Thank you, my love. I’m afraid I was beginning to lose my temper.” 

Which was not, she knew, anything that these people were prepared to face. _She’d_ never seen him truly lose his temper, but felt all the way in her bones that the destruction would be devastating. 

And, whoops, there was the lust again. 

Before she could act on it, though, Esteri appeared in a flurry of motion and said brightly, “As much as you want to drag him off to bed, Lady Spark, I’m afraid I can’t let you two leave before dinner. I worked  _ very _ hard on organizing the seating arrangements, and if you two disappear there will be fewer people between Soraya and the Consuls.” 

Rahim grimaced. “Ah. Apologies, friends, but I have to agree. Soraya’s promised to eat the first Consul to annoy her tonight.” 

Vahid swallowed a laugh. “Well, if it’s for the good of the realm.” 

He glanced at Naomi, who sighed. “Yeah, yeah, I heard you, good of the realm. C’mon, then, let’s get this over with.” 

“That’s the spirit!” Esteri chirped, and dragged them off. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Six Sentence Sunday, if I can get it finished by next week!


	10. Darcy: Cats and Curses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news! I re-read all the comments on my fics and then promptly wrote 6,000 words in a day. So thank you all for your support, kudos, & comments. It really does mean the world to fic writers, especially during times like these. 
> 
> I'm hoping to keep to my weekly updates and not get so discouraged again.. maybe it's depression. maybe it's quarantine. (maybe it's both). lol
> 
> Take care of yourselves, and stay safe! <3

**10: CATS AND CURSES**

_**Darcy** _

Three days after the stranger had escaped their would-be assassin, Darcy leaned against the wall in the medical quarters at Stark Tower and watched through the windows as Dr. Cho and her team did a second blood transfusion on the sleeping victim, working carefully around Imani. 

Imani’s lips were pressed tightly together with the strain of funneling her magic into their body, combating the death magic trying to devour them whole. She’d barely left their side since that first night, too afraid of leaving and letting it continue to spread. 

But Dr. Cho was one of the best doctors in the world, and she rolled with weird supernatural shit without batting an eye. In this case, she suggested regular blood transfusions to keep a step ahead of the magic, clarifying that this would also give Imani time to eat, sleep, and shower so she wouldn’t end up in a bed right next to the stranger. 

The stranger who, according to the license in their wallet, was one Rowan Clarke, a student at NYU who, coincidentally enough, worked in the same anthropology department as Stiles. The department was large enough that their paths hadn’t crossed, but still. It was an odd coincidence. 

The pack’s New York supernatural phone tree reported that Rowan was also a witch, and social media sites revealed they were proudly nonbinary, a social activist, and currently writing a thesis on a comparison on the history of cross-cultural conceptions of magic within the Americas. 

A clever way to study an aspect of supernatural history that had existed right underneath the noses of oblivious humans for centuries, Darcy mused. She wondered if perhaps in the course of their research Rowan had accidentally crossed someone who didn’t want their customs published for other supernaturals to see. 

Or maybe someone who had a secret to hide. 

But they wouldn’t know for sure until Rowan woke up. In the meantime, Darcy had dispatched Natasha and Cora to look around, to try to find similar cases or even a pattern of deaths like this attempted kill. 

Someone settled against the wall beside her, warm and smelling of an overpriced cologne that she had come to associate with him- along with the ever-present hint of engine grease or mechanical fire. It _was_ still her dad, after all. 

Tony passed over a cup of steaming coffee, joining her vigil. 

“You’ve been here for hours, kid,” he said quietly. 

She shrugged. “Imani’s got it worse.”

He turned to study the druid leaning heavily against the side of the bed, hands wrapped around Rowan’s forearm. “When’s the last time she slept?” 

“Dr. Cho did a transfusion earlier today. The grace period from that gave her a couple hours of rest.” She sipped the coffee, which tasted excellent but also reminded her of the unfortunate fact that she hadn’t eaten in a while. The coffee hit her empty stomach with a bitter jolt.

“Is it working?” 

“Imani’s keeping the magic at bay, but Malik has to tailor the antidote specially to Rowan _and_ the death magic. It was easier when he was a kid, apparently, since it was for his own mother and he could let instinct guide him. They’re both terrified of messing up.” 

“Understandable,” Tony murmured. “Especially when someone’s life is in your hands.” 

She glanced at him. One late night after hours in his lab together, heads bowed over whatever project he could dangle in her face to keep her there- as though he still hadn’t realized that all he had to do was _ask_ for her to stay, to spend time with him- he’d admitted, ashamed, that he was glad that she hadn’t found him until later. Relieved that he hadn’t had the chance to screw her up, to make her hate him, that she’d found him when she was already her own person. 

He bounced between that and eternal guilt for not being there for her when Kate Argent murdered her mother, leaving her lost and alone and so, so scared. 

But she’d found her way. She always did. 

They both glanced to the left at the sound of voices, spotting Jane and Valkyrie in deep discussion in the outer halls, likely on the way back to her lab after visiting Bruce Banner. 

Bruce, who’d been tight-lipped about how he’d ended up in space in the first place. She had a feeling it had something to do with his desperate quest to put an end to his… ah… _split personality-_ a sobering realization, and one that made Tony go all quiet and wounded every time he looked at Bruce. 

Jane looked squirrelly, Darcy thought as the Unseelie Queen caught her eye, gave her a wavering, almost guilty smile, and then walked quickly away with Valkyrie sauntering after her. 

Weird. 

Darcy frowned after them. Jane had been pretty busy lately, something Darcy chalked up to the fact that she was running an entire realm with thousands of refugees still settling in. 

But maybe there was another reason she hadn’t seen the Fae Queen around, she thought worriedly, and then promptly cursed herself for being so paranoid. Jane didn’t deserve her suspicion, and she would bring whatever it was to Darcy’s attention whenever she was ready. 

Still. It was weird. 

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, drawing her attention away from the sight of Jane hurrying down the hall. The text was from Bucky and contained only a long series of question marks. 

Bemused, she waited as the three dots oscillated ominously for a long moment before the next message came through. 

**Text from Ice Ice Baby, 9:06am:** There’s a cat??????

 **Text from Ice Ice Baby, 9:06am:** In the house

 **Text from Ice Ice Baby, 9:07am:** [photo attached] 

Darcy snorted a laugh at the picture, which was slightly blurry and had silver metal fingers obscuring the edges of the shot. A small, fluffy cat with bright green eyes and a veritable cloud of white fur stared at camera, tail curled around its front legs and as a whole appearing entirely comfortable with its place on their kitchen counter. 

**Text from Ice Ice Baby, 9:09am:** Help.

 **Text from Ice Ice Baby, 9:09am:** We don’t have a cat

She sent him a quick response- _looks like we do now!-_ and, noting the time, prepared to leave. 

**Text from Ice Ice Baby, 9:10am:** This isn’t funny! I don’t know how she got in

 **Text from Ice Ice Baby, 9:12am:** Darcy. She keeps yelling at me

“I have to go,” she told Tony, pressing a kiss to his cheek when he nodded. “Meeting with Julian.” 

She knocked on the window, waiting until Imani’s head came up and her bleary eyes focused on Darcy, who gave her a few quick hand signals to relay that she’d be back and to contact her if needed. She didn’t turn to leave until Imani wearily signaled back an “okay.” 

Her phone buzzed with increasingly panicked texts from Bucky, which she mostly just laughed at without responding. The Winter Soldier could handle one tiny fluff ball of a kitten without her. 

Besides, if she was remembering correctly, one of the building’s tenants had taken in a pregnant cat not too long ago. This was, presumably, one of the consequences. 

Leaving the Bucky to be terrorized by the kitten, Darcy made her way to Inferno. Julian waited for her, having acknowledged her request to talk with a brief acceptance and a time. 

It was pretty early for a vamp to be up and roaming, but Julian wasn’t the King of Vampires for nothing. Nate, Julian’s right hand man, waved from the shadows of the upper balcony as she made her way up the staircase to Julian’s office. 

She knocked, for once, feeling some trepidation about the upcoming discussion. The line between friend and spark, one with a duty to the safety of all supernatural citizens, was a hard one to find, let alone follow. 

Friend or not, though, there _were_ vampires running loose in the city with little regard for the statute of secrecy. It was a problem that needed to be addressed sooner rather than later. 

The door swung open to reveal Julian’s handsome face, the concealed fury hidden within his grey eyes pinning her in place. Her brows raised in response to his expression, and he turned his head away from her, all the anger suddenly bleeding out of his frame. 

“Apologies.” He held the door wider so she could enter. 

She studied the state of him- uncharacteristically wrinkled clothing, messy blond hair clenched jaw- and his office, which seemed normal at first glance… except for the shattered glass behind the bar and the blood smeared along the bar countertop. 

“Bad morning?” 

“All mornings are bad,” he muttered. 

Julian gestured for her to take a seat in one of the chairs at the desk, situating himself behind it. She cocked her head, aware of the sudden distance he’d placed between them. That wasn’t normal- usually he sat in the chair beside her, or they both moved to the couch or the bar. 

“Hard to argue with you there,” she said. Then, carefully, she asked, “Julian. Is something wrong?” 

He leaned back in his chair, unreadable, and steepled his hands together. Cool grey eyes watched her steadily. 

“You’re here to tell me there is, I assume.” 

She blinked at him, baffled by the abrupt shift in his behavior. He’d never treated her like an adversary before, like a threat. 

“Yeah, to warn you that I think Vanessa Marianna is plotting a coup to overthrow you,” she said, blunter than she’d intended to break the news. 

It was his turn to blink at her. “Oh.” 

_“Oh?”_ Darcy demanded. “What the hell, Julian? What’s with the third degree?” 

He ducked his head. “I’m sorry about that.” Julian smiled ruefully at her. “I told you that I’m old. That just means I’ve had a few experiences with other magic users visiting me after a rogue vampire causes a problem, looking for someone to blame. Or for a chance to kill me, depending on the person and who they work for.” 

She glared at him. “What, so you think I was coming here to blame you for this? Like all these years of friendship don’t mean shit?” She stood, too furious to remain in her seat, and seriously considered storming out. “You bastard.” 

He winced. “Yes, I deserve that. The distrust was due to years of experience telling me the opposite of what logic said. Please, Darcy, I truly am sorry. Sit.” 

Darcy stabbed a finger at him. “Fine, but I’m still mad.” She threw herself back into the chair. 

“I used to have more magic users on my payroll, you know. Up until roughly fifty years ago, when one of my witches tried to assassinate me, thinking it would destabilize the vampire population. He worked for hunters who thought I was sending rogues on on purpose to hunt in the city. Or they just wanted me out of the way so they could declare open war on my kind.” 

“And they didn’t just ask if you had sent the rogues?” 

“Of course they didn’t. Why bother? They wanted me dead either way.” Julian lifted his hands in a helpless shrug. “I’m paranoid. It’s the reason I’ve lived so long. It’s how I’ve been the King of Vampires for so long.” 

“So you aren’t surprised that Vanessa would do something like this?” She asked quietly. 

“That was just one of dozens of examples,” he told her. His mouth twisted. “Two thirds of those assassination attempts were orchestrated by very close friends.” 

“Friends, plural?” 

He smiled at her without warmth, busying himself with clearing off the desk. “Don’t worry. They are no longer with us.” 

“I’m sorry.” She couldn’t imagine how terrible it would feel to never have a single person in your life that could genuinely be trusted. 

“Eh, it’s all right. There are very few alive still today with the intention of removing me from my throne, and those that do have their own to worry about. As for the rest of them…” He shrugged a shoulder. “Some think I’ve betrayed my kind for befriending you. Others think I’m just using you, or you me. Regardless, they are hardly a threat.” 

“Do any of these vampires understand the concept of _friends?”_ Darcy asked sourly. 

Julian grinned, sudden and blindingly bright. “Of course not, love, we’re all a bunch of paranoid bastards. We don’t have friends.” 

She kicked his desk. 

_“They_ don’t have friends,” he amended. “I have a very select group of people I would trust with my life.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “And I thank you for the reminder.” 

“Don’t forget it again,” she warned. 

“Yes, dear.” 

“As for Vanessa…” 

“Ah. Yes. One I actually did consider a friend once, until her ambition thoroughly wrecked her morals.” 

Darcy frowned. “How long ago was that?”

“She’s been scheming off and on for a few decades now, I suppose. This is the first time she’s dared to set her eyes on me, though.”

“We tracked down Daredevil. Found him right as a group of vamps jumped him. Six total, all young but trained well enough to take on a superhuman individually.” 

Julian frowned in apparent concern for the size and skill of the group, so she elaborated, “‘We’ includes Laura.” 

His smile was a little vindictive. “No vampire under a century would be able to handle an Alpha, much less a Hale. Vanessa wouldn’t have understood that.” 

“She will now,” Darcy warned. “Laura left them in pieces.” 

“I do hope that’s literal.” 

“It’s Laura, of course it is.” 

Julian shook his head, his tone admiring when he said, “I do appreciate a ruthless woman.” 

“Isn’t that the reason you’re in this mess?” Darcy asked skeptically. 

“What, you think Vanessa and I were lovers?” Julian’s mouth twisted. “Not likely.” 

“You turned her down?” Darcy studied him, frowning at the odd expression on his face. “Or she never bothered to try to seduce you, is that it? Why not?” 

He rapped his fingers on the desk, appearing deep in thought. “She knew I wasn’t interested.” 

“In her?” Darcy paused as something occurred to her. For all his talk, all the showcasing, she’d never seen evidence of Julian actually having a lover. Companions, sure, but often those were human and there to provide food. 

Julian watched her. She blew out a breath, chagrined. “I’m sorry, Julian. I didn’t mean to push. Forget I asked.” 

“We are friends, are we not?” He asked, mouth curling at the corner. “Besides, it’s hardly a secret that I don’t enjoy sex.” 

“I generally don’t look too closely at anyone’s sex life,” she said, honest. “That’s the pack’s area of expertise.” 

“That’s what you get for consorting with werewolves,” he told her archly. “They’re nosy as all hell.” 

“Oh, I’m well aware.” 

“Back to the problem at hand.” Julian leaned into the smooth arch of his chair, his gaze thoughtful. “I had my suspicions the moment Vanessa set foot in my city again. She’s always been a conniving sort. I used to admire that about her.” 

“Do you think she’s turning new vampires for whatever she has planned?” Darcy asked quietly. 

“If she is and I have proof, it’ll be enough to crucify her in our vampire court.” Julian shrugged. “But she’s not stupid enough to leave evidence. No, I’m afraid we may have to let her plans play out a little further.” 

“Is that a good idea? If she has it in for you, she could send people after you, too.” 

“It’ll take more than a handful of infant vampires to end my reign,” he said, amused. “But I thank you for your concern.” 

“Don’t be an ass. She’s old and conniving, like you said. She wouldn’t leave it to chance.” 

“Yes.” He played absently with a pen, spinning it on the desktop. “There’s a decent chance she’ll approach you, too. Try to win you over.” 

Darcy snorted and stood. “I thought you said she was smart,” was all she said. But it made Julian duck his head to hide a smile, a real one this time. 

She crossed around the desk to stand beside his chair. He tilted his head back to look at her, something like vulnerability crossing his face at her intent expression. 

“When you found me all those years ago, I waited for a long time for the other shoe to drop. I half expected some sort of betrayal, but at every single turn you proved me wrong. You helped me when you knew it would it cost you, even though I didn’t understand the implications of your support at the time.” 

“It’s not-” 

“Hush, I’m not done. Here’s the thing, Julian. You’ve been my friend for a very long time, at least in regards to my human life. You’re smart, and honorable, and generous. I love you, and my family does, too.” 

She leaned in, hands on the armrests of the chair, and let the wolf in her show. “That means you’re _ours._ So consider this official permission to let Vanessa and the rest of your kind know that you have the full and unwavering backing of the Hales. That includes, by the way, two sparks, two druids, a thunder kitsune, and a _Fae queen._ Not to mention our affiliates- the Unseelie Queen herself, an assortment of assassins, Tony fucking Stark, and the God of Thunder. You say the word, and we’ll come.” 

Julian swallowed hard. “What happened to not blurring the lines?” 

“That went out the window when my dad turned out to be Iron Man.” She cocked her hip on the desk, sitting on the edge of the expensive wood. “Tell me, how many attempts on my life did you stop over the years? By your own kind or whatever other outside plots you caught wind of?” 

He looked at her, surprised to be caught. She smiled. “Yeah, thought so. You’ve been watching my back for years now. I wouldn’t be where I am today if you hadn’t stepped in. Let me return the favor, now that I’m strong enough to present a real threat.” 

“I didn’t help you with the intention of using you later,” he said, firm.

“I know. Or you’d have made a move before now, tried to get something out of me or my connections.” 

“You know this for certain?” 

“I’m not trusting blindly, if that’s what you’re asking. I was taught better than that. But I know you.” She grinned at him. “Plus I have a suspicious and overly protective assassin friend that looked into you to make sure. Sorry about the stalking. I didn’t ask her to, promise.” 

Julian sighed. “I’m aware that the Void does what she wants. She’s very good, if not even Nate caught wind of her.” 

“You have no idea.” 

“Is she the one who’s been texting you nonstop?” He gestured to her pocket, where her phone was vibrating intensely, and arched a brow. “Or are you hiding something else under there?” 

She laughed and swatted him. “Get your mind out of the gutter. It’s Bucky. He made a friend.” 

Julian eyed her pocket dubiously. “Are you certain? This friend seems to be causing him some distress.” 

“He’s just out of practice, it’s fine.” She pulled the phone from her pocket when it buzzed again, scrolling through the messages. “A cat broke into the apartment and he’s losing his mind about it.” 

“Barnes, panicking over a kitten?” He sounded delighted by the prospect. 

“Yeah, apparently he tried to give her back and she ended up in our sink again twenty minutes later. I’m letting him handle it.”

“Well, congrats on your new pet,” Julian said, amused. 

“Thank you. Now, should we talk about what to do about Vanessa?” Her phone chirped three times, interrupting Julian’s response. She frowned, recognizing the alert for trouble, as Natasha’s latest burner phone number flashed across the screen. 

Darcy answered it. “Yeah?”

“I’ve got reports from one of our informants at the station. Recent death, about thirty minutes ago. Jacobs-” one of the handful of supernatural police officers in the city- “answered a distress call from the victim. We’re lucky that the dispatcher caught it and sent it to him in time.” 

The dispatcher was a human who’d married into the supernatural world, and was a crucial part of keeping the supernatural secret under wraps. She diverted all “suspicious” phone calls to the supernatural officers on duty. It was mostly effective, and the back door into their systems that Danny had created and handed off to a couple agents at the compound caught the rest. 

“What was the complaint?” Darcy asked, already moving. She pressed a kiss to Julian’s cheek, mouthed “remember what I said” with a threatening glare, was nearly out the door of the empty club when Natasha said, “He said he was spewing black goo, and then the call cut out.” 

“Black goo?” Darcy asked, wrinkling her nose. She blinked at the aggressive sunlight outside, hesitating as the heavy club door shut behind her. “Where am I going?” 

Natasha rattled off the address. “That’s not all. Apparently the Winchesters are in town, too.” 

“Is that so?” Darcy said darkly. She wove through the busy streets, making quick progress through the crowds. The supes that recognized her help clear the way after a glance at her expression. She lifted a hand in thanks and kept moving. “They’re supposed to tell us when they visit.” 

“The tall one said they just arrived. Tracking a demon, or something.” 

“Great,” Darcy muttered. “Where are you?” 

“The victim’s apartment. Maria’s going to send me background on the victim any minute now, but I wanted to keep an eye on these two in case they got any bright ideas.” 

“Did they get into the crime scene?” 

“Jacobs hasn’t called it in yet, since one of us hasn’t checked it yet, but apparently the Winchester name carries a lot of weight. He’s going to fold any minute now and let them in.” 

“Can’t you give him that face?”

“What face?” 

“You know, the one that makes people rethink all their life choices.”

“I think you’re confusing me with Rogers,” Natasha said, amused. 

“No, no, Steve’s face is the one that’s so disappointed that people will do anything to redeem themselves. _Yours_ is the one that makes people want to get all small and quiet and find a good place to hide.” 

“You’ve spent entirely too much time thinking about this.” 

“The pack has a competition on who can get the Rogers’ Face of Disappointment the most often,” Darcy explained, finally spotting the apartment complex ahead. 

“Why wasn’t I included?” Natasha asked, offended. 

“Because we also have a bet on who can get the most of your ‘Time to Die, Motherfucker’ Face. Clint’s currently winning both, in case you were wondering. I’m pretty sure it isn’t on purpose, either, considering he’s not in on the bet.” 

“Идиот,” Natasha muttered, then said abruptly, “You’re here.” 

“That’s creepy, but yes.” Darcy peered up the stairwell at the sound of male voices on the second floor. “Coming up.” The call ended. 

She took the stairs two at a time, coming to a halt when Sam and Dean Winchester both turned around sharply at her arrival, hands hovering near their waists where she assumed they were armed.

“Twitchy,” she commented. 

“It’s been a rough couple of weeks,” Sam said, apologetic. 

“I told you he was stalling,” Dean grumbled, shooting Jacobs a look. 

“The last thing this city needs is a couple of loose cannons running around,” Darcy said. “A heads up would have been polite, you know.” 

Dean bristled, but Sam made a soothing gesture with his hand that quieted him before turning to Darcy. “We’re sorry. We meant to call, but it sounded like this was urgent.” 

“You’ve tapped into our frequencies, haven’t you?” For all their bluster and fragile masculinity, at least on Dean’s part, they _were_ competent hunters. 

Not the kind she liked, though. They were more the “shoot first, don’t bother with questions” type that usually ended with innocent supernatural lives on the line. She recognized some of Gerard Argent’s ideals in them- aka, anything that wasn’t human needed to die, which was dressed up as protecting humans. 

“I played around with it,” Sam admitted with a sheepish smile. “Got lucky.” 

Dean was busy studying Jacobs closely, probably aware that he wasn’t human. 

“He’s one of mine, Dean, leave him alone,” she ordered. Jacobs shot her a grateful look. Most werewolves got nervous around hunters, and the Winchesters had a certain reputation. 

“They’re _all_ ‘one of yours,’” Dean bitched, but he turned away. 

“He’s finally catching on,” she said. Sam snorted a laugh as Dean gave him a betrayed look.

Jacobs leaned down to talk to her when she approached the door. “You’ve got five minutes before I have to call it in.” 

“That’ll be enough.” She let her magic slip through the apartment before opening the door. 

“Good call on this one,” she murmured. The air inside the apartment was practically steeped in black magic, heavy and foreboding.

Dean hissed when he stepped through the apartment after her, hand sliding beneath the back his shirt. Sam’s giant frame blocked the doorway as he lingered in the narrow hall. He made a noise low in his throat at the slap of magic against his skin, dark and viscous and nearly tangible. 

“Yuck,” Darcy said, examining the wild spray of a sticky black substance along the hall and into the living room. The body was splayed haphazardly on the floor, covered in the same black goo. 

“Yuck,” Dean agreed, grimacing. 

“Have you ever seen anything like this?” She asked, crouching to peer at the victim’s face. Black goo seeped from his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears. 

Dean exchanged a worried look with Sam. “The Leviathan turned a little gooey sometimes.” 

“But we locked them all in Purgatory,” Sam countered. He frowned. “This looks more like a curse.” 

“What were you two tracking that brought you here?” 

“Demon,” Dean said absently, rifling through the man’s mail. “No signs of sulfur here, though.” 

Sam picked his way through the mess to stand beside her. “We thought maybe the black goo was actually black smoke, which is why we came.” 

“Someone really hated this guy,” Darcy murmured. 

“Is there any way you can track a curse?” Sam asked. 

“Normally, I’d say no, but in this case… Hmm. Let me try something.” She sat on the coffee table, out of the splash zone but close enough that the remnants of the curse were thick and curling around the body. 

Darcy closed her eyes. The curse was a living thing, full of fury and vengeance that promised a violent death. 

It was an easy thing to settle her magic against it, to follow the black threads of hate out the window, through the city, above the heads of oblivious pedestrians. 

With its goal complete, the curse was beginning to dissipate, black threads losing their tension as they dissolved into obsidian particles that would soon be burned out entirely by the sun. But there was enough left to trace it to its source, to find the small apartment only a mile away where the foundation of the curse hummed with black magic and sheer desperation. 

Darcy’s brow furrowed. There were a lot of things hanging suspended in the air of the apartment- murderous intent, a flash of triumph mixed with a sickening tinge of nerves, and the uneasy awareness that they’d just done something irreversible. 

The source was shielded from sight- she could break through, of course, but that would alert the caster of her presence. No, better to seek them out in person. 

“Found them,” she said, opening her eyes. “They’re close.” 

“How’d you do that?” Sam asked, curious. 

“This kind of magic leaves a stain. It wasn’t too hard to follow it back to the source.”

Dean looked over his shoulder from where he was looking through the victim’s fridge. “Did you see who did it?” 

“No. But no one throws around this kind of power if they’re feeling reasonable, so I’m not expecting a quiet conversation.” 

“Maybe someone who had it out for him,” Sam mused as they left the apartment. 

Darcy nodded to Jacobs, who would reach out to their clean up unit who would vanish the aftereffects of the curse. Humans wouldn’t know what to make of this, and it would be better for everyone if the media didn’t pick up on this and start spinning ghost stories. 

“Did you find out what he does?” Darcy asked Dean, who’d stuck his nose in every corner of the apartment. 

Natasha appeared out of nowhere, falling into step with them so casually it was as if she’d been there all along. Dean flinched, then looked at her with admiration, as Sam eyed her warily. 

“He was a middle school teacher,” Natasha said, popping her gum loudly. “Suspended since last week with pay. Records didn’t have a reason why, but there were accusations brought against him by a student.” She shared a look with Darcy, both able to make the leap of logic there. 

“This is black magic,” Darcy said quietly as the boys bickered over something about borrowers, “but I wonder if it has anything to do with the half-dead witch we brought back to the Tower.” 

Natasha frowned. “Does the magic feel the same?”

“No,” Darcy admitted. “That death curse was up close and personal, not to mention druidic. This one was cast from a distance, and it doesn’t feel like nature magic. But it’s a strange coincidence.” 

“Not as strange as you’d think,” Natasha said, grim. “We’ve been looking into similar cases like you asked. It’s a long list.” 

“Shit,” Darcy said with feeling. “So we’ve had an assassin hanging around?”

“In and out of the city, over the course of thirty years or so,” Natasha confirmed. “We’ve been trying to sort through the potential cases, which I think we’ll need your expertise to do with any certainty.” 

“Yeah, I can do that.” Darcy jogged to the front door of the apartment building she’d tracked, holding the door open with a polite smile for a woman on her way out while the others blended into the background. 

“This might be a parent or friend of the student the dead guy hurt,” she said over her shoulder as they approached the third floor, “and they’re capable of black magic. So stay behind either me or Natasha.” 

After all, a spark and a Void could handle pretty much anything. 

Sam helpfully picked the lock, then stood back so Darcy could throw the door open and stalk inside, palms glowing in preparation for a fight. 

But what she found instead were four young girls, red-eyed and pale-faced. Their hands were steady, no trace of regret in their eyes as they huddled protectively around one in particular. They froze at the sight of Sam and Dean behind her, as though the two strange men were scarier than the woman with glowing hands.

Wax from black candles dripped to the hardwood floor, positioned in a pentagram around the girls. An old, thick book lay open before them, and Darcy could feel an ominous pulse from it when her magic brushed against it. 

Darcy took one look at their faces, at the bruises on the girl in the center of the huddle, and told Sam and Dean, “Get out.” 

Dean, for once, didn’t argue. His mouth went tight at the look of fear in the girls’ eyes, his gaze heavy and furious, and he followed Sam out of the apartment. The door clicked quietly shut behind them. Natasha leaned against the wall and crossed her arms by the door, as though guarding it. 

In the ensuing silence, Darcy turned an expectant look on the group.

“He hurt her,” a dark haired girl said defiantly. “He hurt Cait, and they did nothing.” The bruised girl, Cait, curled in on herself without uttering a sound. 

“They said he was going to come back to school,” another girl said. She had tear streaks on her face, and her hands were clutched tightly around Cait’s. 

“We couldn’t let that happen,” the first girl whispered. 

Darcy had gone quiet in terrible understanding. She said nothing, just bled off the excess dark magic clinging to their skin and purified it with a simmering power of her spark. The air grew ten times lighter in the span of seconds, taking the lingering fear with it. 

“It wasn’t just me,” Cait said worriedly, lifting her head to watch Darcy with watery eyes. “There were others. But when I told my friends…” 

“My grandmother left books for my mom when she died,” the first girl said. “Mom said she could do weird things, so I thought… Our parents let us stay home from school with Cait. I thought we could do something to help.” 

Darcy crouched in front of them, arms resting over her knees as she studied their faces. So young. _Too_ young, to have faced these things. To have to resort to killing a predator because those in charge of the system would let him go free. 

But Darcy was raised by ‘wolves. She’d learned just how far her own love went, how far she’d go for them. 

Wolves respected loyalty, and so did she. 

“It’s going to be okay,” she said gently. Oddly enough, that was what made their tears start to flow. “You protected your friend the only way you knew how. But this kind of magic is dangerous. It could have hurt you all very badly, or even killed you.” 

“We won’t do it again,” the girls promised. 

“There _are_ other magics, you know.” Their heads came up with hesitant interest, invisible ties flexing between them. Oh yes, this group had started a coven bond already. They wouldn’t be able to ignore the call of magic forever. Better that they were trained. 

“I can ask one of my friends to teach you, if you’d like. She can show you how to use magic, as long as you swear to never resort to black magic like this again.” 

The chorus of excited promises made her smile. Sara, a white witch who’d once brought her coven to a Hellmouth to help Darcy close it, would come if asked. They would have to work out a way to fit in classes for the girls- independent study? after hours club?- but they would be okay. 

Darcy stood. The dark haired girl did too, and handed Darcy a thick book with pages yellowed with age. “This was the book,” she said, solemn. “She doesn’t practice, but I don’t think my mom should have it.” 

She flipped through a couple pages, brows rising at the list of curses detailed within. “I think I’ll have to agree with you on that.” 

Cait sniffled. “Wh-what about…” 

“He’s dead,” Darcy assured her. “But you guys don’t need to worry about it anymore, okay? We’ll take care of it.” 

Sheer relief crossed Cait’s face, and she hiccuped around a sob. “Thank you.” 

“You don’t have to thank me.” Darcy knelt at her side, tucked a strand of hair behind the girl’s ear. “I’m sorry this happened, Cait. I’m sorry no one helped you when you needed it.”

“My friends did,” she said, a little defiant. It made Darcy smile.

“Yes, they did. Friends like these will help you every time you need it. But if you ever run into trouble you four can’t handle, I want you to call me. Okay?” 

“Who _are_ you?” The first girl burst out, as though unable to restrain herself any longer. 

“My name is Darcy. I’m a spark, and a member of a werewolf pack.” Their eyes went comically wide, and she had to bite down on a grin. “This is what we do.” 

Natasha drifted forward to hand her paper and a pen. She accepted it, jotting down two numbers under the one Natasha had already added. 

She pointed to the second one. “This number is for our training compound.” No point in hiding it- these girls would likely train there one day. “An agent will answer the phone and put you in touch with whoever you might need, okay?” 

“There are more of you?”

“Not of me,” Darcy admitted. “But lots of us that aren’t exactly human.” 

“Like werewolves,” Cait whispered excitedly. 

“This number is my own cell phone. If you need me for any reason, call.” They nodded obediently.

“What’s that one?” 

Natasha spoke. “That one is mine.” 

Cait perked up. “Are you a werewolf?” 

“No, I’m something very different,” she said with a wry smile. “My name is Natasha. If you need help and can’t reach Darcy, маленький, you call me next.” 

Cait’s friend leaned over to whisper, “My mom’s going to be home soon.” 

“We’re leaving. You guys might want to clean this up before she gets back.” 

“Thank you,” Cait said as they left, tucked in the safety of her friends and looking like the world might just be okay again. 

~*~ 

Darcy’s heart was lodged firmly in her throat by the time she made it home, remembering the way desperation and pain had bled into the curse- _Cait’s_ pain and desperation, she realized now. 

Natasha had vanished shortly after they left the apartment, citing the need to go hit something very hard for a few hours. Sam and Dean wound up chasing rumors of their demon to the outskirts of the city, taking their particular brand of chaos with them. 

She let herself into the apartment, smiling at Bucky’s quiet voice and the pile of Petsmart bags dumped in a heap by the door. That hadn’t taken long. 

“Where are you going?” She smiled at Bucky’s offended question following a light thump on the floor. A faint jingling noise made her brows rise- he really _had_ gone all out- and seconds later a small white cat trotted around the corner. 

“Hello,” Darcy said. The cat answered with a demanding meow, sitting in front of Darcy and blinking vivid green eyes at her. 

“Can I help you?” A friendly chirp. Darcy flicked her eyes to the toys scattered all over the floor. “You do quick work, little cat.”

The cat- barely more than a kitten, caught between infancy and the awkward adolescent years- stretched up on her hind legs and kneaded at Darcy’s thigh. 

“Yes, ma’am.” Darcy lifted her, let her rub her face all over Darcy’s while she purred loud enough to drown out a thunderstorm. 

Bucky hovered in the kitchen doorway, smiling. “The lady downstairs told me to accept it. So we really do have a cat now. I’d say I hope you don’t mind, but you abandoned me in my hour of need, so you don’t get a choice.” 

“And here I thought you could handle a kitten.” Darcy pressed her face into the tufts of soft white fur, vaguely aware of Bucky straightening at the odd note in her voice. 

He moved closer. “What’s wrong?” 

“Bad day,” she said tightly. “I need a hug.” He instantly wrapped himself around her, holding her close while the cat appeared ecstatic at all the cuddling. 

“Want to talk about it?” 

She made a face as the cat licked her ear with rough, reassuring swipes of its tongue. “Yeah.” 

“Why don’t you tell me about it while I finish cooking dinner? You can help me keep an eye on her before she tries to swipe the fish off the counter again.” 

Darcy laughed, her mood and tension lifting with every gentle brush of his hand along her spine, with the kiss he pressed to her forehead and the cat now visibly contemplating what Darcy’s hair might taste like. 

“Trouble already, huh?” She hefted the cat in her arms and followed Bucky into the kitchen. “You’ll fit right in.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Маленький: little one
> 
> Six Sentence Sunday


	11. Naomi: The Escape

**11: THE ESCAPE**

_**Naomi** _

Naomi heard the door to their rooms open as she poured a glass of the sweet mulled wine made from a fruit native to the realm, feeling her wards flare softly in warning as Vahid softly padded into the room in search of her. 

Without looking at him, she held up a finger before he could speak and drained the glass in one go. 

Vahid pressed his lips together against a smile. “Rough morning, my love?”

“Not yet it’s not,” she said grimly. “I’m preparing myself. We’ve been invited to eat with the royals again.” 

He silently reached for the pitcher in solidarity. 

“Soraya still thinks we’re up to something.” Naomi collapsed into a plush chair, wriggling around until she was comfortable. “Which, technically we kind of are, but it’s not like we’ve found any of the missing Nakano.” 

“I’m starting to believe they are not in the city at all,” he agreed, “or worse- dead.” 

“But for what reason?” She asked, bringing them back around to the same conversation they’d had countless times. “Kidnapping them doesn’t make sense if they just want them dead- why not kill them on sight? Why bother taking them anywhere?” 

He stared into the deep maroon pool of wine, brow furrowed in thought. “Unless their goal is to further divide humans and dragons.” 

“Again, why not just kill the humans, though?” She countered, then paused as a thought occurred to her. “Though this does keep the Nakano’s attention entirely on Nova Solis.” 

Vahid’s pupils contracted in the light from the stained dragonglass window along the far wall, a cast of blues and grays across his face as the second sun rose. “You think this is related to human rivalries?” 

She shrugged. “We don’t know much about the other clans, just that they exist and the Nakano trade with them.” For the most part, the other clans were scattered throughout the lands to the east of Nova Solis, opposite the sea’s end and subsequent fall into the endless deep. “Maybe an opportunistic dragon or two thought to make an alliance.” 

“But what do they gain? What is the purpose?” Frustrated, he set his glass down with a thump and paced the room. One hand shoved impatiently through the thick black hair that fell to his shoulders. 

She watched him stalk from wall to wall, agitation growing in every line of his body. After the eighth pass, she stood and halted him with a hand to his chest. 

And waited him out. 

“Sargon is  _ dead,” _ he finally choked out. “And my parents…” She closed her eyes briefly, sharing his pain. Grief took his parents not long after they’d migrated to the new realm, mourning so deeply for their lost son that they’d broken entirely. 

He took an unsteady breath and continued. “And now the rest of them- the ones I consider my family… Naomi, they look at me as if I am a  _ stranger _ sometimes. With wariness and suspicion, and while they do so another in their trusted circle attempts to unseat them. I cannot bear it.” His voice broke on the last words. 

“You can,” she said, quiet and certain. She cupped his face. “You will, because love is what drives you, love and the desire to keep them safe. It’s only a matter of time before they see that, too, Vahid.” 

As for the guilt over his parents’ deaths… she would leave that untouched for now. He still wouldn’t speak of it. So she’d give him the time he needed to grieve for them- only she would make sure that  _ he _ didn’t break in the meantime. She’d be his pillar of support for as long as he needed, until he could talk about them again. 

Until that sporadic darkness behind his eyes- that thing that looked like it wanted to die- vanished for good. 

Grief was a riptide that could swallow you whole, pull you into an abyss until you gave in, gave up. Until you forgot why you ever cared or wanted to live. 

But she was a strong swimmer, and she could take his weight until he was clear of the deep. 

“What would I do without you?” He murmured, eyes damp. 

She swiped a stray tear from his face, fondness for him swelling inside her chest. “You wouldn’t be dragged to breakfast with a pissed off royal dragon, that’s for sure.” Soraya was sure to be in a mood, if it were this early. The dragon General loved her sleep.

“I wouldn’t be here at all without you, even if I had awoken from the stasis.” She had a moment to think of Vahid, lost and alone on earth in her realm had she not found him first. 

It made her heart hurt. 

“Well, there’s no point in wasting time with ‘what ifs,’” she said decisively. The mood lightened, Vahid letting her shift from the heartfelt conversation. 

“Not even ‘what if we skip breakfast and stay in bed all morning?’” He asked, curious. She paused, sorely tempted to take him up on the offer. He noticed. Jumped on her moment of weakness with a sly smile.

“I think we’d both prefer it,” he purred, fingers tracing the exposed skin of her waist until she shivered, “if I kept you here and worshipped you for hours on end, until you knew nothing but my touch and my voice, the silk sheets gliding across your body and your skin radiant in the beams of sunlight.” 

Naomi blew out a breath, fingers shaking just a little as she touched his jaw. The intensity of his focus surged at the touch and her pulse fluttered in response. 

The slow curl of his mouth told her that she hadn’t covered her reaction well enough. 

He turned his head to nip at her fingertips. She leaned eagerly into the warm touch of his hands playing with the waistband of her pants. Quicksilver eyes darkened when she squirmed in place, reacting to the promise in his eyes and low tone. 

A knock on the door broke the tension. 

Vahid growled a wordless question, the sound reverberating throughout the room. Naomi tried not to visibly react to the dangerous sound, the rumble of noise tearing from his chest right beneath her palms. She must not have succeeded because he raised a brow at her, his own interest piqued. 

“It’s apparently a thing now, I don’t know,” she said with a helpless shrug. Another knock sounded. 

“Oh? I will keep that in mind,” he promised, then called an impatient,  _ “What?” _ when the person knocked again.

“Door’s warded,” she reminded him, then sighed when Sayali let out a long, warbling howl from outside. “Right, she’s been out chasing the Lankau herds all morning.” 

The Arcos delighted in the mayhem her presence wrought within a herd of Lankau, though the shepherds rarely appreciated the ensuing stampedes- despite a couple having their own Arcos to assist them. 

But few of the shepherds without an Arcos were brave enough to complain after watching Sayali fearlessly snap her powerful jaws at the heels of the massive creatures. 

They went to the door, expecting a servant who’d been called to wrangle Sayali back to their rooms, only to find a highly amused Prime Darius outside. 

He was tall, fit, and broad across the shoulders, everything that a king should be, with kind brown eyes and deep laugh lines. But the first threads of silver shot through his black hair, a testament to the stress and demands of his position, and his smiles had a permanent tiredness to them lately.

Sayali slouched lazily against the Prime, visibly insulted to be locked out. Her giant head reached well past his hip, one shoulder braced against his thigh like he was nothing but a post there for her convenience. 

“I came to collect you two,” Darius informed them, the gleam in his eyes telling her that he knew exactly what they’d been about to get up to. “And found your Arcos wreaking havoc in the halls on my way.” 

“Any lasting damage?” Naomi asked with a small wince. Surely the ruler of dragons was familiar with a little good-natured chaos, considering his younger half siblings and their antics.

“Only to Consul Faraco’s pride,” he said demurely, then offered his arm with a conspiratorial wink. “Just between us, though, I found it hilarious.” 

Vahid rolled his eyes as he closed the door behind them, glancing briefly at the rune carved into the corner of the frame to check it for damage. “Your Consuls do not need more reasons to complain.” 

“No,” Darius said, smile dimming. “But the palace needs all the laughter we can manage these days.” 

It was easy to forget, she mused as they headed for one of the private dining halls, that these royals had just lost their father. A decade or two was nearly a quarter of her life, but a mere blink of an eye to these immortals. Their loss was still fresh, still painful. 

Vahid said nothing, just reached over to squeeze his friend’s hand in silent understanding. 

Darius cleared his throat. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to ruin the mood. Lady Spark, how go your lessons with the High Sage?” 

“Well, Prime Darius. Idri is an excellent teacher.” 

“I’m glad to hear it.” He glanced briefly at Vahid, then back to her. “I know we spoke of you joining my advisory council soon. I hope that is still to your agreement?” 

Naomi tried not to let her hesitation show, but she did ask, “I’ll admit that I still don’t believe I have much to offer compared to your current advisors.” 

“Not true,” Vahid interjected before Darius could answer. “I have been with the council for months now, my love, and I am more certain than anyone that your guidance would be invaluable to a leader such as Darius.” 

“And what’s so different about my judgement that a council of ancient dragons and magic users can’t provide?” She challenged, leaning around Darius and momentarily forgetting about the dynamic ruler at her side as all of her focus went to Vahid. Darius seemed bemused. 

“A level head,” Vahid shot back, “No ulterior motives, no associates in the city quietly paying you to bring their complaints to the Prime. An ability to see through a lie, no matter how well crafted. Intelligence.  _ Compassion.”  _ She noticed that he hadn’t even mentioned her magic, had instead placed a higher value on  _ her. _ It warmed her a little, after years of people on earth assuming her spark was the only relevant thing about her. 

“You do bring a very unique perspective to the table,” Darius told her seriously. “I have fought for years to have another High Sage on the advisory council, but the dragon nobility threaten to revolt every time I consider it.” 

“Did they do anything when Idri joined?” 

Darius smiled, shark-like and satisfied. “They believed Idri joined solely because of her relations with Soraya, considered her helpless because of her lack of sight. We encouraged the misconception, let them underestimate her, and by the time they realized Soraya had brought more than just a consort it was too late.” 

“So you see why being trained by the High Sage is a clever way around his current problem,” Vahid added, neatly side-stepping Sayali’s bulk as she squirmed between him and Darius as though to remind them all that she was still there. “A magic user trained by the High Sages of Nova Solis would be an invaluable asset.” 

“The dragon advisors feel threatened,” Darius said quietly. “Their rank is the highest in the city other than the royal family and High Sage- until I appointed Idri as my primary advisor. Which means that she is the next in line should all of us fall.” 

Naomi frowned. “But Idri’s a dragon, too. Why would they consider her lesser?” 

“She is dragonkin, but many tend to look down on those within the library. To them, the pursuit of knowledge is less respectable than the pursuit of power. At least until Idri succeeded in both. Now they despise her for both her ambition and her dual rank.” 

Prime Darius had twenty five advisors on his council, Idri with the highest rank among them. Fifteen were dragons of the most prestigious noble houses, all assigned to represent a section of the city and its inhabitants. Five were magic users from the Ruling Council of Mages, Ziadie among them, and the last four advisors acted as ambassadors to the human and shifter nations. 

Not that they did much with that role. She’d yet to see any of them provide worthwhile advice to resolve the current tensions. Then again, if they didn’t know the truth of what had happened to Sargon either… 

Most of the city suspected that humans, specifically the Nakano, were involved. But the royals had confirmed nothing, left it to rumor and speculation. Which had, of course, run rampant. 

“I would greatly value your input on many matters of state,” Darius said as they arrived at the dining room. “I sincerely hope that you consider the offer, once Idri believes you prepared to join.” 

Idri knew better than anyone what Naomi would be walking into, and someone who valued knowledge the way a High Sage did would ensure she was fully prepared. If Naomi erred, looked like a fool by missing universal information, she’d never gain their respect. 

“I will consider it,” she said truthfully. But she’d made a promise to the Nakano to find their missing people, to help them first, and she wasn’t sure that joining the advisory council was the best way to do so. 

But she would consider it. 

A fierce whispered conversation cut off abruptly at their entrance, the other royals far too casual in their movements as they tried to hide the tension from their argument. 

Rahim looked the most upset, though, unable to hide his frustration as he stood with jerky motions and stalked across the room to glower out the windows. Noor watched him subtly, leaning against the wall with a clear line of sight to both doors and the windows. 

Soraya calmly piled fruit on Idri’s plate, ignoring Rahim’s simmering anger and Kaveh’s pointed stare. Esteri brought Rahim a cup of strong-smelling tea, pressing a kiss to his cheek before returning to the table without a word. 

Rahim’s shoulders slumped at the gesture, some of his anger draining away, but he remained at the window to watch the dragons soar in and out of the city with something akin to longing on his face. 

Darius led Naomi to a seat, pulling out her chair and another for Vahid before seating himself on her left. He ignored the awkward tension in the air, striking up a cheerful conversation with the youngest royal. Esteri played along, nudging Kaveh when he only stared at Rahim with a worried expression. 

“Sorry, what?” 

“He asked what our plans were today,” Esteri said helpfully, pretending she wasn’t also shooting concerned glances at Rahim. 

Kaveh rubbed a hand over his head. “I’m taking my unit on a run over the ocean.” 

“Oooh, a hunt?” Esteri bounced in her seat. “Can I come?” 

“It’s supposed to be a training exercise,” he told her, amused. “On how to catch food without getting caught yourself.” He noticed Naomi’s confusion. “We teach them all to hunt for the giant fish in the sea, but some of the monsters in the deep like to hunt us instead.” 

Gods above, she hoped to never meet the creature that could swallow a dragon. 

“Who are you hunting for today?” Darius asked. 

Kaveh absently spun a knife between his fingers, tilting his chair back on two legs. “Sector Fourteen,” he said. “Most of them can’t hunt for themselves. We rotate the duty on and off between units.”

A few things happened at once, so suddenly that Naomi was barely able to track it all. 

Soraya kicked the leg of Kaveh’s chair so that he slammed back down to four legs with a startled yelp.

Noor jerked to attention, nostrils flaring. 

Sayali gave a short, sharp bark of warning as she came to her feet at Naomi’s side and nearly flipped the table over.

Rahim stiffened with a low, wounded sound. His drink fell from limp fingers and landed with a loud crack, dark tea pooling on the marble floor at his feet. 

And then he collapsed. 

His entire body crumpled so abruptly that it looked to Naomi like a puppet’s strings snapping in half. She made a sound of alarm and rose to her feet, prepared to cushion his fall with her magic- but Noor got there first. 

He was across the room in the span of a blink to catch Rahim seconds before he hit the unforgiving stone floor. Noor cradled him carefully, hyper focused on Rahim’s fluttering pulse and shallow breaths. 

The rest of the room watched with bated breath, utterly still as they waited with rising anxiety. As though one wrong move would cause further damage.

Finally, when Naomi was beginning to wonder if her own pounding heartbeat drowned out all other sounds in the room for everyone else, too, he stirred. 

Rahim’s eyes slowly opened, his expression dazed as he worked through the fog until he could focus on Noor’s face inches from his own. She saw realization hit, followed by raw frustration and embarrassment, tempered only when Noor cupped his face with one big hand and murmured something too soft for them to hear. 

He clung to Noor with a desperation that Noor’s careful, reverent touch reflected as he helped the royal stand. Rahim wobbled like a newborn deer, unsteady on his feet and too weak to remain upright on his own. 

But Noor wound an arm firmly around his waist and checked his pulse again, two fingers pressed to Rahim’s delicate wrist and listening carefully to his short, pained breaths. 

“Please excuse me,” Rahim managed, voice strained with pain. “I’m not feeling well.” 

Naomi had a sudden, hysterical urge to laugh at the glaringly obvious statement. But he avoided eye contact with everyone in the room, barely waiting for Darius’s quiet agreement before taking a weak step towards the door. Noor whisked him from the room without further delay. 

“Is he okay?” Naomi asked, throat tight. Her question was met with silence- silence that felt very much like a  _ no. _

Kaveh’s hands shook as he stared at the dark liquid creeping across the floor. Esteri seemed to be holding back tears. 

Soraya stood abruptly, her expression thunderous, and stormed out of the room. Darius made as though to follow her, but Idri cautiously set her cup down, the table in front of her specifically organized so she wouldn’t knock anything over, and rose. 

“I will speak with her,” she told him, and moved gracefully across the room to follow Soraya. 

“Excuse me, friends, I must check on my brother,” Darius said, and he slipped from the room also. 

Naomi met Vahid’s eyes, saw the same frustrations she felt reflected back at her. 

“Kaveh,” Vahid said, repeating himself when the royal didn’t seem to hear. “Can we do anything to help?” 

Kaveh shoved away from the table, face in hard lines. “None of us can.” But Naomi saw the sorrow in his eyes when he turned to leave, the grief that couldn’t be buried. 

Vahid collapsed into a chair, head lowered into his hands in the ensuing silence. Naomi wondered if he felt as useless as she did- not even her magic and runes could help Rahim. Dragon magic often tried to absorb her spark when they clashed without her guarding from it- trying to heal one of Vahid’s major injuries had once left her puking and unable to walk for three days straight. 

“No one else knows about this,” Esteri said softly. They flinched, having forgotten that she was still in the room. “It’s only a matter of time before it comes out, but… for Rahim’s sake, I’d ask that you not speak of this to anyone.” Without waiting for an answer, she swept out of the room. 

“They’re hiding this from everyone else,” Vahid muttered, voice pitched so it wouldn’t carry. “I suppose I feel better about being in the dark now.” 

“It’s to protect him,” she agreed, rubbing at her temples to stave off the building migraine. “Did this ever happen when you knew him back on earth?” 

“No. Whatever this is, it’s a recent development.” 

“A puzzle for another day,” Sonia said waspishly as she stalked into the room, directing her two shadows to clean up the spill. “Right now I have an urgent task for you both.” 

She stared pointedly until Naomi powered one of her small runes and said, “The room’s warded.” 

“Is this task from the Nakano?” Vahid asked, curiosity chasing away the shadows on his face. 

“No. There is a servant in the palace that needs a way out of the city. He is small, though, and we cannot do it the usual way.” 

“The usual way?” 

Sonia ignored the question. “You. Dragon.” He raised a brow. “You must ensure the Consuls do not return to their rooms for the rest of the afternoon.” 

“We have an advisory council in an hour,” Vahid shared, cocking his head in thought. “I’m sure I can draw it out if necessary. What will Naomi be doing?” 

“Smuggling the boy out of the city, of course. Lady Spark, I need your assistance with something first. That is, assuming you both agree to help?” 

Since her expression said she already knew the answer, Naomi leaned over to kiss Vahid on the mouth and then waved the Weaver on, Sayali on her heels.

“Be safe,” Vahid called after her. 

“Of course. Have fun,” she called back, grinning when he was unable to hide a grimace in response. 

Sonia walked briskly down the hall, shaking her head sharply when Naomi tried to speak. She led them through the winding halls of the palace, ducking into hidden servant’s pathways when they neared a dragon, until they finally came to a stop outside of rooms in a suspiciously quiet part of the palace. 

“Consul Faraco’s rooms,” Sonia explained quietly. “You will need to hide your scent. Can you do that?” 

“I can.” And she did so with a rune tattooed on her calf, then eyed Sonia. “I can hide yours as well.” 

“No, I am one of the few servants permitted in his rooms. My scent is expected.” 

“By Faraco?” 

“By the shifters he hires.” Without further explanation, she shoved the doors open. “Arcos, guard the door.” 

Naomi shrugged when Sayali looked at her uncertainty. “Guess you’re on door duty.  _ Niasoc, _ Sayali. Guard.” The Arcos sniffed at Faraco’s rooms and whined, unhappy to be left outside while Naomi entered the den of a man they disliked. “I know, but we’ll be quick.” 

She hoped they would, anyway. 

Consul Faraco’s rooms were extravagant, with high ceilings and elegant decor that spoke of riches. The wide trench lining a raised slab of stone in the center of the room gave her pause. There were coals piled in the dip of the floor.

“That’s his bed,” a young voice piped up. Naomi glanced over to find a dark-haired boy curled up on a narrow cot in the corner behind the door. Like the rest of the room he smelled of acrid smoke and his skin was decorated with streaks of ash. “He shifts at night to sleep and lights the trench on fire.” 

She assessed the distance between the trench and the boy’s cot. He noticed and said, “You have to stay in the bed so the floor won’t burn you. That’s how he knows you stay where you’re supposed to.” 

She tried to cover the sudden spike of rage. No more wasting time with expected politeness- Consul Faraco had just made a new enemy. 

“He is not the worst of them, if you’d believe it,” Sonia muttered from where she was sorting through a small bag. “Ajay, where is the cloak?” 

He scampered across the room on bare feet, ducking under a massive wardrobe and squirming into the space beneath it. His voice echoed out of the dark, cramped space. “I hid it so he wouldn’t see.” 

“Smart boy,” Sonia said approvingly. Ajay wriggled back out and beamed at them, holding a thick black cloak with delicate golden embroidery. “I need to know what rune to use to hide the wearer.” 

Naomi accepted the cloak and considered the fabric, the embroidery, the reassuring warmth of the material. Whoever had chosen the fabric had chosen well- this would hold any magic tied to it for far longer than a lighter, softer material would. 

“Quickly,” Sonia urged. 

“Shh,” Naomi said irritably, refocusing. The rune would require a power source- she could maintain the magic during their trip, but it would wear off once she was out of range. But she wouldn’t risk linking it to anyone else’s life force, so that would have to do. Quickly, carefully, Naomi sketched out the rune on the paper shoved into her hands. 

Sonia studied it closely for a minute before nodding to herself and handing the paper to Ajay. The boy darted to the low-burning fireplace and set the page alight, waiting until the flames were almost licking at his fingertips before dropping the rest of it into the fire. 

The master Weaver set to work with a speed that astonished Naomi, Sonia’s motions smooth and confident as she worked. “You’re in my light,” she eventually said with exasperation, and shooed them both away. 

Naomi followed Ajay to his small corner of the room. Ajay sat on his bed and swung his feet. 

“Why are you working for Consul Faraco?” She asked. He was younger than most of the other palace servants by at least eight or so years. 

His eyes dropped to the thin bed covers. “My mom sent me here.” 

She crouched beside him, chin propped on her hands. “Why’s that?” 

“She said it would be good for the family.” Ajay’s voice was subdued. “To work for a powerful dragon on the council.” He fiddled with his long sleeves now, cowed. 

It sent alarm bells ringing through her head. 

Gently, she asked, “Did he hurt you?” 

Ajay shrugged, picking at a loose thread. “He said I had to spy on people for him, but it was scary. I didn’t want to.” 

“A fool trying to play spymaster,” Sonia said with a derisive sniff. “Only an idiot would use his personal servant to collect information on others, much less a human child.” 

“Mom said I had to be good,” Ajay said quietly. “I tried to, I promise. But when I ran back home she made me come back, even though they hurt me.” 

Naomi heard an aborted noise of anger from Sonia. Instead of letting her own fury show, she smiled at the boy and said, “We’re going to take you somewhere safe, Ajay.” 

He looked at her beneath his lashes, cautiously hopeful. “To the Nakano?” 

“That’s right. Things are different outside of Nova Solis, but I think you’ll like it.” 

Ajay brightened. “Can I have my own Arcos?” 

She bit down on a grin. “I bet there’s one waiting for you in Kailua right now.” 

His eyes went wide. He scrambled off the bed and bounded over to Sonia. “Are you done? Can we go now? My Arcos is waiting for me, Sonia, we have to hurry!” 

Sonia masterfully concealed her amusement as she stood and wrapped the cloak around his thin shoulders. “Stop squirming, child, for Nalani’s sake.” 

He stilled. “Who’s Nalani?” 

“The Goddess of quiet skies and our defender of peace,” she answered, fussing over the fit of the cloak. “And you’d better hope her eye is on us today.” 

“Okay,” he said solemnly, and turned to Naomi. “Is  _ your _ Arcos coming with us? Consul Faraco says you have one. He gets real mad about it.” 

“Yes, Sayali is outside waiting for us.” 

Sonia barely caught him by the cloak’s hood before he bolted out the door. “Would you be still for a single moment? We haven’t tested it yet.” Ajay appeared to be vibrating in place. 

Naomi let a trickle of her magic free, reaching for the rune sewn between the shoulders of the cloak. It glowed briefly through the fabric before vanishing. 

Sonia straightened abruptly. “It worked. I can’t…” She frowned. “I can’t quite focus on him, or remember what he looks like.” 

Ajay looked uncertainly at Naomi. “It’s okay,” she reassured him. “I can still see you just fine. The rune is going to make sure no one remembers seeing you when we’re walking in the streets.” 

Sonia blinked away the confusion caused by the rune and turned to Naomi. “Most of the palace is familiar with your walks through the city by now. It will be suspicious if I suddenly join you on the day Faraco’s servant goes missing.” 

“What about you?” Naomi asked, concerned. “You’ll need an alibi.” 

“Esteri has a dress fitting that will extend well into the afternoon. I will be covered.” 

“Okay. Where do I take him?” With Vahid busy ensuring Faraco remained busy and out of his rooms, they were short transportation to the ground.

Sonia frowned. “Ajay is too small for the usual method-” 

“Hey!” 

“So we’ve had to make a few adjustments. Luckily there is someone able to meet you halfway.” She pulled a piece of paper from the folds of her clothing. “Follow this map. The path is marked with the Nakano symbol- three interlocking circles, you see?” 

Naomi nodded. “This person knows to expect me here?” 

“Yes.” Sonia didn’t expand on the person, let alone their identity, and Naomi knew questioning would be a waste of time. 

“Alright. Ajay, are you ready?” He nodded vigorously. “I want you to stick close to Sayali, okay? Keep a hand on her at all times. Sonia, I’ll see you tonight.” 

She herded Ajay out the door, allowed him and the Arcos a moment of mutual delight, and then ushered them out the closest exit. 

The map was… daunting. It led to the farthest parts of the city, the edges of the floating surface that could crumble beneath one’s feet without warning. But there was a path there, carved into the side of the rock, thin and unstable even on paper. 

Their trek through the city went smoothly, the cloak working like a charm. The busy streets parted around her and Sayali without once noticing the small boy between them. She noticed Ajay look hopefully at a street vendor with carved slabs of fish and stopped to buy twelve with small coins from the purse on her belt- part of Vahid’s salary as an advisor- taking a few moments to sort out the correct coins. 

Drams were worth the most, a blue-green coin that looked like a scale. She estimated it to be something like a twenty dollar bill, with the coppery Vatu coins worth a ten and the rectangular coins- a Rizal- closer to five. 

She handed the vendor a Vatu and a Rizal that, judging by the man’s unaffected expression, must be correct or close enough. Many vendors recognized her as a close friend of the royal family, she’d learned, and people were beginning to learn her face. 

She handed Ajay two of the kebobs, keeping one for herself and letting Sayali wolf down the rest before continuing. The cloak’s magic would keep anyone from focusing on him so he could safely eat without detection.

Ajay hesitated only once, slowing as they passed a small house on the outskirts of the lower sectors. Sayali gently nudged him, snuffling into his neck until he giggled and moved along with one last glance back at the house. 

And then they were walking past the outskirts of the final sector, towards the areas marked with warning signs for anyone stupid enough to try and walk along the edge of the flying city. 

Sayali whined and paced when they had to leave her behind, the stone creaking uneasily under her weight. Naomi directed the Arcos to stay and wait for her return, let Ajay hug her around the neck, and then carefully stepped along the rough, barely visible path. 

It wound down and around in a slow curve along the very outside edges of the rock. Each footstep sent tiny little rocks scattering across the path and over the edge with an ominous silence. She kept one hand planted firmly to the solid wall and the other stretched backwards to keep Ajay steady. 

She followed the interlocking rings carved into the stone at eye level, a Nakano symbol that meant she was going in the right direction. Not that there were any other directions besides back and down. 

_ Very _ far down, which she was not going to think about any longer or else she’d puke and this small child would lose all confidence in her. 

Ajay made a noise of unrestrained joy, one small hand tugging insistently at her sleeve. “Lady Spark, look, look, look!” 

She risked a glance back, then followed his finger down below to find… Her jaw dropped. 

A ship sailed through the sky towards them, soaring gracefully along the heavy wall of water falling hundreds of miles below. It reflected its surroundings, seemingly mirrored to keep the boat camouflaged no matter what its surroundings, and they watched in awe as the camouflage continued to melt slowly away to reveal the vessel in its entirety. 

The air rippled as it climbed steadily upwards, skimming along the air currents as its sail stretched to its limit. Naomi’s attention caught on the two figures standing beneath the sail. They were utterly still as they worked, hands outstretched and faces lined with concentration. 

Weather mages, she realized. Wind witches, capable of creating and controlling the air currents. Of course they’d be highly sought after on the seas. And in the skies, too, apparently. 

They watched in utter fascination as the ship curved effortlessly through the air to finally hover a few feet away from their positions against the path. 

A young woman with cropped dark hair shaved on one side of her head sauntered down the deck stairs, eyeing them both with slanted eyes the same grey as a thundercloud. Her skin was decorated with scars and freckles alike, and her loose shirt revealed hints of a dark tattoo. 

“You made good time,” the captain- for she was undoubtedly in charge- said to Naomi. She spoke in Nakano, and it took Naomi a moment to switch from the dragon’s tongue she’d been using for months now. 

“So did you.” 

An arresting half-smile tipped the woman’s mouth. “Well met, Lady Spark.” 

“Well met, Lady Captain.” A full smile this time, one that made Naomi’s breath catch. The captain was stunning, lovely and hardened and bearing a light in her eyes that said she was very, very dangerous. 

The woman winked at Ajay, who had been staring in awe. “I hear you’re looking for a ride,” she said in flawless dragon tongue. Ajay nodded shyly, biting down on a thrilled grin as Naomi tossed Ajay’s bag to a waiting crew member. 

The captain leaped onto the narrow ledge of the ship’s rail, unconcerned with the gentle rocking of the boat and the abyss beckoning to them both from below. 

Naomi helped Ajay as he reached for the captain’s outstretched hand, trembling but determined. 

She snatched him easily from the air and deposited him on the deck with little fanfare. It should have unbalanced her, but the motion was smooth and practiced, as though she dangled over empty space all the time. 

Flat grey eyes watched Naomi for a few prolonged heartbeats, nothing but the sound of the flapping sails and wind between them. “I was surprised to hear of a spark helping the humans,” the captain finally said. “The last of your kind became the dragons’ lap dogs with the promise of power not so long ago.” 

“Power means nothing to me,” Naomi said truthfully, meeting those shark’s eyes without flinching. “People do.” 

“Hm.” The captain made a short, sharp hand motion and the ship drifted sideways. “We’ll see.” 

Ajay bounced in place on the deck and waved excitedly until they were out of sight. 

Naomi stood in the sudden quiet, felt the history of this realm, of her own kind, press on her shoulders. She had something to prove to everyone here, but most of all to herself. 

Suddenly tired, Naomi sighed and began the long trek back to the palace. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally getting to the action! Thanks for bearing with me this long.. things will get way more exciting very soon :)
> 
> [Six Sentence Sunday](https://i-like-plan-m.tumblr.com/post/615253686627811328/six-sentence-sunday)


	12. Darcy: Conspiracies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, this chapter gets a little dark towards the end. Nothing out of the ordinary for this series, though, I don't think

**12: CONSPIRACIES**

_**Darcy** _

Safety wasn’t something either Darcy or Bucky took for granted. 

They’d lived this long thanks to their preparedness, stubbornness, and a significant amount of spite. That said, living in a building with an Alpha werewolf, at least six other shifters, two sparks, a druid, and an assortment of other supernatural beings lent some rather extreme measures of security to their home. 

Not to mention that Darcy had warded the shit out of the building and each individual apartment, and the defensive runes she’d chosen weren’t particularly friendly. 

Darcy could sleep deeply because she lived with a notorious assassin who would decimate anyone who broke in, and _he_ slept deeply because he lived with the magical equivalent of a nuclear bomb who’d booby trapped their place six ways to Sunday.

So when the cat yowled like her tail was on fire around seven the next morning, neither of them panicked. 

“Think she just met one of the ‘wolves?” Darcy asked sleepily. She felt Bucky’s grin against her shoulder. The cat screeched angrily from outside again, so Darcy sighed and reluctantly rolled out of the warm bed. 

“Why are you yelling?” She asked as she opened the door, then stopped abruptly at the sight of Natasha, whose head was cocked as she studied the furious kitten swatting at her shoes. 

Natasha frowned. “When did you get a cat?” 

Darcy felt a cool breeze drift through the room and made an exasperated sound. “Stop climbing in my window!” 

“Well, I have to get in somehow,” Natasha said reasonably. 

“You have a key!” 

Bucky stumbled out of the bedroom behind her, assessing Natasha with bleary eyes before grunting a hello and scooping up the kitten valiantly attacking Natasha’s boots. 

“All our friends are rude, sweetheart,” he crooned to her. “You’ll have to get used to it.” The kitten’s huff of offense suggested she would _not_ as she peered balefully at Natasha from over his shoulder. 

“Be nice, or no donuts for you,” Cora said as she entered through the front door like a normal person. She squinted after Bucky as he wandered into the kitchen. “Is that a cat?” 

The kitten caught of a whiff of Cora’s scent and hissed. Cora nodded approvingly. “Good for you.” 

“Ow, fucking shit,” Bucky yelped, dancing in place as the cat’s claws extended into his shoulder. He pried her off of him and settled her against the other shoulder so she could take her anger out on the vibranium instead. 

Darcy grinned, busy texting to the pack and affiliates about their new addition so she didn’t have to answer the same damn question twenty times over. 

To her right, Natasha had kicked off her shoes and was dragging the large dining table away from the wall, twisting the projector on the ceiling around to point at the blank wall behind it. 

To her left, Erica and Boyd entered through the front door, holding hands and looking tired. The cat streaked by in a flash of white fur, disappearing into the bedroom and diving beneath the bed to hide from all the newcomers. 

“Wow. Have you two slept at all?” Darcy asked, lowering her phone. Erica slumped dramatically against her, resting her head on Darcy’s shoulder with a low groan. 

“One of Izzy’s friends stayed over,” Boyd said, closing the door and leaning back against it, eyes drifting closed. “He and Izzy were up half the night playing.” 

“His moms are transplants from the pack in Louisiana,” Erica explained, muffled against Darcy’s shoulder. Darcy looped an arm around her waist and took her weight without complaint. “They wanted a date night, and needed a couple hours to finish unpacking.” 

“Who knew two baby shifters could make so much noise,” Boyd marveled. 

Erica lifted her head. “We got Nat’s message and dropped them off at daycare.” She sniffed the air around Darcy. “Why do you smell like cat?” 

Darcy huffed, aggrieved, just as the door behind Boyd jerked against him, met resistance, and slammed shut again. Boyd cracked an eye open at the indignant, “Hey!” from outside and reluctantly moved, pulling the door open to reveal Stiles. 

“Why were you blocking the door?” He muttered, rubbing his shoulder. Erica snickered. 

“The couch was too far away,” Boyd said seriously. 

Stiles snorted and shoved a stack of papers into his hands. “Remember when we used to pull all nighters? Now if my sleep schedule is off by thirty minutes I’m a wreck the next three days. Adulthood is bullshit.” 

Boyd starting flipping through the papers, losing the dregs of exhaustion as he read whatever notes Stiles had made. 

“Yeah,” Stiles said when he noticed Boyd’s expression, then turned to the living room. “Hello, scary lady. Why are you standing on the table?” 

Natasha ignored him in favor of fiddling with the cords at the back of the projector. The screen flickered angrily on the wall. 

“Is this one of Stark’s?” She finally demanded. 

“Yeah, he ‘upgraded it’ the last time he was here,” Darcy said, rolling her eyes. “Now it only works when it feels like it.” 

Natasha muttered something in angry Russian under her breath that made Bucky laugh. 

“Heard you went to see Julian,” Cora said from the kitchen, propping a hip against the counter. Her long, dark hair was in its usual ponytail, and she wore olive jeans and a black tank top that crisscrossed over her muscled shoulders and back. 

“Oh, about the vampire problem?” Erica asked. Boyd had vanished into Darcy’s guest room, presumably to drag the giant boards out from the closet. Tony had tried to convince her to set up a hologram surface in her apartment, but it felt ridiculous and a little obnoxious to have in her living space. 

Besides, the pack worked best the way they always did- mapping things out by hand and finding the patterns that way. Too much tech was a distraction, an argument that had deeply offended Tony. 

“Vanessa Marianna hasn’t made another move yet,” Stiles called, kicking his shoes off and circling the table to hold wires for Natasha. “I’ve kept an eye on her.” 

“That’s probably why,” Darcy said dryly. “She’ll be careful, wait for us to slip up.” 

“What does she take us for, amateurs?” Erica demanded. 

“If she knows the Hale pack’s reputation and she’s still plotting against one of our oldest allies, we might have a problem,” Boyd pointed out. “If she thinks she can take us on…” 

“She probably has something up her sleeve,” Darcy agreed, chewing on her lip. 

“Do we need to vet the vampires close to Julian?” Erica worried. “Or update the wards at Inferno?” 

“He’s already on it,” Cora said, selecting a third donut. 

“When did you see him?” Darcy wondered. 

Cora shrugged. “We got drinks last night.” Everyone turned to stare at her. “What? It’s not like I’m fucking him, we’re just friends.” 

Considering Cora was (quietly) asexual and Julian apparently was as well, Darcy wasn’t concerned. Relationship dynamics between supernaturals could be a tangled mess already- adding a sexual component between a twenty two year old and a vampire who was at _least_ two centuries old was whole other thing. 

Not that Julian would ever cross that line, his own sexuality aside. She trusted him with her little sister’s life, and knew he’d never take advantage of anyone in that way.

“He said he talked to you, too,” Cora told Darcy, crossing her arms. “About other stuff.”

“He did,” Darcy said carefully, wondering at the sudden tension in her sister’s lean frame. 

“And you’re okay with it?” 

Darcy frowned. Apparently, leaving Cora alone about her sexuality in an attempt to respect her carefully guarded privacy wasn’t the right move. Maybe she _did_ need the validation and understanding from them, in the form of obnoxious but well-meaning ribbing like everyone else got from the pack. Maybe they’d made her feel like an outsider. 

Unbelievable- the one time the pack _actually_ respected someone’s boundaries, and instead they’d accidentally made Cora feel unaccepted by not aggravating her half to death. 

A mistake they’d be sure to correct, she was sure. Darcy would take this to Laura, though, just in case.

“Of course I am,” Darcy said, gentle. “You know nothing could change how we feel about… Julian.” 

Erica, always quick on the uptake, chimed in. “You’re talking about Julian’s, uh, preferences, right?” 

Cora swallowed. “Yeah. We’ve… talked about it.” 

“Oh, right,” Boyd agreed. “It’s not anyone’s business but his, but it doesn’t change a damn thing about his relationships with his family. We know he loves us.” 

Stiles’s mouth quirked as he listened to their attempts at reassurance without revealing anything about Cora that they weren’t supposed to know. 

“Wait, how do you guys know about Julian?” Darcy asked, confused. 

Erica shrugged. “He never smells like he’s aroused, even when he’s got gorgeous half-naked and very willing people hanging off of him.” 

Darcy pinched the bridge of her nose. “That is so invasive, oh my god.” 

“We wouldn’t ever bring it up!” Erica protested. “That would be rude.” 

“Oh, suddenly there’s a line now?” 

Bucky poorly muffled a laugh as a cough. 

“Here,” Natasha said abruptly, dropping an armful of wires on top of Stiles. “Figure this out, we have work to do.” She leaped gracefully off the table, landing without a sound, and stalked into the kitchen. Bucky frowned after her.

Stiles stared up at the projector. “Boyd, you’re tall,” he said. 

“Stiles, you’re loud,” Boyd said immediately, barely paying him any attention. 

“Hey!” 

“Sorry, I thought we were stating the obvious.” 

Erica elbowed Darcy gently in the side and tipped her head towards the kitchen, mouthing _Go._ Darcy obeyed, noting that Cora had also followed their favorite former assassin. 

She found Bucky already leaning against the counter, arms crossed as he watched Natasha hide her face in their fridge and aggressively rearrange it, based on the noises coming from within. Cora hovered uncertainly in the doorway. 

Bucky murmured something in Russian, too low for Darcy to catch. It made Natasha’s short, jerky motions pause, though, and she stilled for a long moment before closing the door. 

She stared at the closed refrigerator doors, watching her reflection in the shiny surface. “I forgot,” she told them finally. 

Cora and Darcy exchanged a glance, but Bucky watched her with steady eyes. “Forgot what?” He prompted, expectant. 

“That it was normal,” she said softly. Her hand flexed on the door handle, knuckles white. “That it wasn’t just me.” 

“Having no interest in sex?” Darcy asked, careful. 

Natasha’s reflection was strained, distorting as she shifted on her feet. “I thought the Red Room broke that part of me, too. I was too afraid to explore it, though, so I believed it meant I was…” 

“Incomplete,” Cora finished. 

Natasha’s eyes rose. “Yes.” 

“Sex doesn’t make you whole,” Cora said, chin lifting. “So it can’t make you incomplete, either. We are who we are, which is nothing more or less than normal.” 

A beat of silence while Natasha contemplated the words- and then her mouth curled at the edges, and her reflection stilled. Settled. 

“I could never figure out how to talk about it,” she admitted, finally turning around to face them. 

“Me either,” Cora agreed. “I thought I was missing something for a long time. I was too afraid to bring it up in case there _was_ something wrong with me.” 

“The only thing wrong with you is what you put on your pizza,” Darcy said firmly. Cora laughed, a rare and treasured sound. 

“I have to agree with Darcy, Маленький волк,” Natasha said with a smile. 

“Ranch and hot sauce are a great combination,” Cora said defiantly. “You guys are just cowards.” 

“You’re a crime against humanity, Hale,” Bucky muttered, risking life and limb to reach over and ruffle her hair. He then turned to Natasha and held her face between his hands, speaking soft words that had her blinking rapidly. 

Darcy wound an arm around Cora’s waist and pulled her along to give them a moment. She tugged her sister close, and said, “You know we love you, right? And that being ace is perfectly normal?” 

Cora ducked her head. “Yeah.” She hugged Darcy so tightly that there would certainly be bruises left in a few hours. “Thanks, Darce.” 

“Hey, this is good work, Baby Hale,” Erica said, appearing on Cora’s other side and dragging her down to smack a kiss on her cheekbone. Cora made a face, but she let Erica keep her close. 

“Of course it’s good work. Maya taught me.” Maya being Mayo Ito, daughter of the Ito Alpha back in Beacon Hills and married to Erica’s aunt Sophia. She was also a particularly terrifying hunter with a reputation that had made even the worst of the hunting world hesitate to engage her. 

Cora had followed in her footsteps, using her skills as a werewolf to help track down the worst of the supernatural creatures that lurked in the dark and preyed on humanity. 

Darcy let out a low whistle at the sight of the list projected on the wall from Cora’s laptop. Stiles stood close to it, scanning its contents, as Boyd shuffled through the pages of notes and set up their bulletin boards in front of the windows. He and Stiles would break the list down later, marking similarities and tracking patterns across fifty years of unsolved murders. 

“If even half of these are related to the druid assassin…” 

“Then we’re probably in a whole lot of danger, _again,”_ Erica said, resigned. 

Stiles looked over his shoulder, eyes glittering. “We’re the Hale Pack, remember? We’ve fought worse.” 

“We don’t know what we’re fighting yet,” Cora pointed out. “Don’t get cocky.” 

Darcy gestured to the name at the bottom of the list. She’d kept it quiet the past few days, giving Sara time to get to New York and the victim more time to heal before the ‘wolves started checking in on them. “That guy was killed by witches, take him off.” 

“You’re sure?” 

She remembered the fierce, protective bonds between terrified and desperate young girls, inky candles guttering out at her presence, the scent of death lingering in the air. “Oh, I’m very sure.” 

Cora raised a brow but marked through the name without further question, fiddling with the HDMI cable attached to her laptop when the projection flickered. 

“The cases are loosely organized at this point,” Cora explained. Natasha returned to stand at her shoulder, some of her sharp edges soothed. “We found deaths that matched Rowan’s current symptoms, which were generally noted as unusual medical cases.” 

“And these?” Darcy pointed at a long list of highlighted names. Bucky was a reassuring warmth at her back as he studied the list, too.

Natasha’s mouth tightened. “Supernatural deaths. There was an extreme amount of violence in the murders of the bolded names within that list.” 

“Hunters?” Boyd asked, grim. 

Hunters. Darcy scowled. The hunters were a growing problem. They’d lost their foothold in the last few years as the Hales and other packs regained their strength, as alliances were reforged and the sparks returned to guard supernatural beings. 

Many of them had reacted poorly, lashing out at isolated packs or magic users as though attempting to remind their world why they should remain afraid. 

But that was no way to live, and Darcy would not allow hunters to force others to live in fear. Too many of them were bullies, viciously pleased with their power over the helpless and all too eager to kill. 

A few families, the Argents among them, had found a middle ground. They were respected for their talents and occupation, but only because they used both to find the non-sentient monsters that killed without prejudice. 

She needed Allison. The Argent matriarch would have to make the hunters fall in line, or they would be gasoline on a bonfire when the supernatural secret was inevitably revealed. 

“One group is operating in the city,” Cora said, mouth tight. “A couple of Stane castoffs, according to Maya’s sources.” 

“The _Stanes_ didn’t want them?” Stiles asked in disbelief. “The lawless, murdering bunch of psychopaths didn’t want this group?” 

“They drew too much attention,” Cora explained. “Too interested in the killing part of the job. Drawing it out, making a scene. The Stanes considered them a liability.” 

“Fuck,” Stiles breathed, throwing himself onto the couch. 

His phone slipped out of his pocket, falling between the cushions, and he shoved his hand down after it- only to come up with a wicked knife instead. He squinted at it, shrugged, and shoved it back into place before digging around and finally finding his phone. 

“The supernatural names are the majority of this list,” Darcy said quietly. Shifters, Fae, and too many magic users to count, confirmed by her own familiarity with the person or the notes to the side of their name. 

“Could some of the human names be sparks whose magic hasn’t presented yet?” Bucky asked, hesitant. Stiles dropped his head into his hands. 

“But how did they know?” Darcy asked, throat tight. “How could they have known who was a potential spark?” 

How was it possible that the two living sparks didn’t know how to find their own kind? How could this assassin know where to find them, how to pick them out of a crowd, identify the potential hidden beneath their skin?

Her people had lost so much already, and the loss was still happening right underneath their noses. They’d clawed their way to safety, guarded it with every ounce of their being, and _still_ they were alone. 

“These deaths were all over the place,” Natasha said quietly. “If they are sparks, then they were hunted down, one by one.” 

Darcy pressed her hands to her eyes against the building pressure. She barely reacted to Bucky’s gentle hand on her back, too busy trying to keep herself contained, to keep the building fury and helpless grief from exploding out of her. The lights flickered in the room. 

“Erica and I have a lot of contacts, thanks to the store,” Boyd said, and she appreciated his unruffled calm despite the horror-movie style lighting dramatics around them. “We’ll ask around, send a few emails to the supes closest to those deaths.” 

“We have become the thing we hate,” Erica said, morose. 

Boyd sighed. “Not now, babe.” 

Darcy couldn’t help her shaky laugh, remembering Erica’s disdain for the email chain that served as communication between the west coast Alphas. 

“We’re missing something,” Stiles said, coming to stand beside her. Side by side, shoulder to shoulder, they stared at the evidence of their failure, the potential lost, the lives cut short. “Someone out there knows how to find sparks.” 

_“We_ don’t know how to find them,” Darcy murmured. “So we can’t beat them there.” 

“But we know how to track an enemy,” Stiles said confidently, so wolf-like that it startled her. “We know how to hunt a threat, trace it to the source.” 

“Track the killer, not the targets,” Bucky said with approval. He nodded to the list. “You’ve got the target profile. You know how he kills, a basic history to track his movements. You can find him.” 

“And bring the full might of the Hales down on his head,” Cora said, eyes gleaming beta-yellow beneath dark lashes and canines pricking her bottom lip. 

“We’ll set things right, Darce,” Erica told her, moving to grip her hand. “How many people do we know across the world, now? With our alliances and network, they won’t stand a chance.” 

She clung to Erica, let Bucky and Boyd crowd her for comfort, and prayed they were right. 

~*~ 

“Stane castoffs,” Allison murmured a few nights later, matching her stride with Darcy’s as they walked towards the darker, more dangerous neighborhoods in the city’s unofficial supernatural sector. “If that psychopath thought they were out of control, these guys are going to take a lot of effort to stop.” 

“They’re killing like they enjoy it, Alli,” Darcy said unhappily. “For fun.” 

“And we missed it.” Allison grimaced. “Managing affairs on this scale is… more than I’d expected. Things fall through the cracks.” 

“What’re the odds of legitimate cohesion within the ranks of hunting families?” 

Allison shrugged. “Some obeyed our unofficial, uh, warning of peace from all sides. But many hunters refuse to follow an Argent so closely affiliated with a werewolf pack, not to mention the Fae, and many others just hate me because I’m young and a woman.” 

“They’re conflicted over the tiers of bigotry. Charming.” Darcy sighed, scanning the shadows for any hidden movement. 

Hellhounds still roamed, having quickly learned how to survive in this dimension. Occasionally one or two got brave and made a play for her or one of the pack- seems they remembered those who’d fought at the Hellmouth. 

A subtle movement from the mouth of an alley caught her eye just ahead, but it was the near-soundless footsteps behind them that had her magic swelling beneath her skin like a rising sun. Allison’s hand crept into the folds of her jacket. 

She caught Darcy’s eye, prepared to spin and face their stalker. Darcy let her eyes drift ahead to the figure waiting for them, palms itching as her spark pooled in her hands, ready for anything-

“Look at our girls, Chris,” came a pleased voice from the alley. “Ready for a fight and planning how to take us down without a word uttered between them.” 

Allison huffed a laugh and holstered the small crossbow she’d pulled out.

“Hi, Dad,” Darcy said, relaxing. A smile crept over her face as Peter stepped out of the shadows, eyes flaring wolf-yellow for a heartbeat in greeting. 

He scooped her into a tight hug, pressing his face to her hair and breathing in. She clung to him, so grateful for the sense of safety his presence brought that she had to compose herself before letting him go. 

Chris released Allison and hugged Darcy next, pressing a kiss to her forehead and absently adjusting the knife belted to her hip. 

“Was the stalking routine necessary?” Allison asked, tucked under Peter’s arm. 

“You were being followed,” Chris said. He frowned at her. “It’s not like you to miss a tail.” 

Allison and Darcy traded looks. Peter gave a pained sigh. “Unless you were fully aware of said tail and planned to use him against the nasty group of hunters he works for?” 

“Got it in one,” Darcy said cheerfully. 

Allison’s eyes flickered to the rooftop across the street, and she flashed a subtle hand signal near her chest. “Did you see the tail we had on our tail?” She asked, grinning when Chris rolled his eyes. 

“One of Lydia’s shadows,” Darcy explained as the two men stared at the seemingly empty rooftop. “No way on earth these hunters catch one of those.” 

Those particular Fae could vanish into thin air- literally. They could disperse their physical form into smoke. Undetectable at night, uncatchable always. Lydia kept one on Allison any time the huntress was in this realm, worried about her many opportunistic enemies now that she was on the Seelie Court throne. 

“How’d you know where to find us?” Allison asked. 

Peter grinned. “Stiles said this was payback for siccing me on him. Does this mean you consider me a hindrance? I’m hurt, darling.” 

“You _are_ nosy,” Chris said thoughtfully. 

“Prone to melodramatics,” Allison added. Peter looked at them, betrayed. 

“And ruthless when it comes to protecting your family,” Darcy finished fondly, still so grateful he was here that it was hard to tease him. 

Peter dragged her away from Chris. “I only like this one. The rest of you are traitors.” 

Allison snorted. “Speaking of, what’d you do with our tail? We were going to-” 

“Get the location of the others from him? Already done. You’re welcome. You’re also not going alone.” Peter eyed them, waiting for the argument, only to be surprised when Allison brightened. 

“A family hunt? We haven’t done that in years.” 

“Thankfully we haven’t had reason to,” Darcy muttered. “Until now.” 

“Why so down, darling?” Peter pulled her closer into his side as they started walking, Chris leading the way towards, presumably, the hunters’ hideout. 

“Homicidal hunters, a missing Deaton, rogue vampires, and a druid assassin,” Darcy listed. She scrunched up her face in thought. “Am I missing anything?” 

“Half-dead victim in the hospital, missing sparks, and a suspiciously distracted Unseelie Queen,” Allison added helpfully. 

Darcy’s stomach tightened at the reminder. “Yeah, thanks.”

“One problem at a time,” Chris told her. His confidence was a balm to her nerves, dampening the dread that everything was going to come crashing down on their heads soon. 

“We stashed the tail in one of the safe houses nearby,” he continued, hand sliding towards the small of his back as they approached a mid-sized, run down house away from the more populated areas. 

A perfect hideout, Darcy thought uneasily, and isolated enough that no one would hear screaming coming from the basement. 

Then again, that would only help them tonight. 

She glanced at Peter and grinned when she met the sly, yellow-eyed stare of a wolf instead. 

“House calls are so fun, don’t you think?” He said with a wink, and promptly kicked in the front door. 

Allison and Chris swept in immediately, weapons raised as they cleared the room. Darcy hovered in the doorway, hands glowing gold as she provided cover when the shouting started. 

“Contact!” Allison shouted from within the house, nearly drowned out by the sounds of gunfire. Peter leaped into the air, kicking off the wall to grip the balcony above. He flipped over the rail, landing silently behind the two men shooting at Allison. 

Darcy watched as he kicked the legs out from under one, throwing the second into the wall with a loud crunch. Chris had come across another hunter in the back room and, from the sounds of it, was kicking the shit out of him. 

She left them to it, satisfied they could handle the situation upstairs, and headed for the basement. Her magic lit the way, warming her chilled blood at the sight of the dark stairs leading into yawning darkness below. 

Her otter tattoo curled anxiously along her wrist. The runes that made up her armband shifted constantly, settling and resettling into different combinations of runes depending on her mood. It took no conscious thought, now, the magic having adjusted permanently to the ink and its contents. 

The basement was far larger than she’d expected. Rooms had been converted into cells lined with iron and rowan wood to dampen the powers of those imprisoned within. 

The cells were empty, abandoned, but the bloodstains on the cell floors were fresh. She could taste copper on her tongue, swore she could hear desperate, terrified moans from those who’d been held captive. 

It reminded her of another room in a godless place, at the mercy of a demon and men who enjoyed terrorizing others. 

A sharp crack from behind made Darcy pause. The bullet hit her spine, between the shoulder blades, and bounced harmlessly to the floor at her feet. The shield against her skin hummed with power.

“You must think I’m stupid,” she said, turning around. A bulky, muscled hunter smiled at her over his raised gun, finger tight against the trigger. 

He shrugged. “You did come down here alone.” 

“There’s nothing down here that could kill me,” she said truthfully. Unless he had an Ak’ma chained up somewhere in the darkness she’d yet to explore, but she would know if _that_ enemy lurked nearby. No chill in her bones, no aching scar, and no shrieks of fury from a demon scenting its favored prey. 

“No? Your precious Fae Queen hasn’t called _all_ the demons to heel, surely.” 

A fact that haunted Darcy still- not that she’d let it show. She raised a brow instead, surveyed the walls of the room behind him. Countless photos lined the walls, of her and her pack, of their friends and their friends’ families. A few, she noted carefully, were of those victims Cora had unearthed. 

They’d added pictures from the murders, she noted with a surge of rage. Proof of the kill, Fae and shifters and magic users lifeless and empty-eyed, lives cut short for the crime of their existence. 

“Your victims deserve justice,” Darcy said, circling to the side when he did. “I’m here to make you face it.” 

“You?” He tsked his tongue, smile growing. “You’re out very late, little girl. Whatever would your mother think?” 

“My mother is dead,” she said coolly, unaffected by the taunt. She reached out, ignoring the bullets flying at her too fast to track, and let her magic wind mercilessly around his throat.

She had a memory of her mother sort of like this- men with malice in their eyes, closing in, gleefully anticipating the violence they planned to inflict. She remembered the song of their death, desperate choking and throats bleeding freely as they clawed for air. Her mother, head held high, stepping past their still bodies, unapologetic of their extermination at her hands. 

Darcy used to be afraid of that memory. Now she understood. 

She thought about that seed of darkness inside her, born of fear and helpless rage. It’s been planted by her mother, surely, fostered by the woman with an edge of fine-honed viciousness that Darcy hadn’t fully comprehend until later, after living the life she’d led. After seeing what she’d seen. The abuses. The countless injustices. 

So she understood, now, why her mother had killed those men in that alley so many years ago. She could have left them alive- broken, sure, but alive. But that just meant that one day they would find another girl instead, one who didn’t have magic or a powerful mother there to protect her. 

Stay safe, walk carefully, be armed. Don’t look like a target. Make sure they find someone else instead. 

It made her sick. Now she knew so many sharp-edged women in her life, all of whom had seen the atrocities she had, had experienced them. Experienced worse. 

They shared many things, these incredible women in her life. Among them was the rage about women used and discarded in history. The sharp desperation that came with the knowledge that somewhere out there, in the world, in the country, in her city, another woman would be attacked. 

She would kill for them, these unknown women trapped beneath the shadows of dangerous men. It was an odd, heavy emotion pressing against her ribs, swelling out- acceptance of the worst parts of herself, maybe. Responsibility that came with power such as this. 

The soft parts of her had mostly been destroyed over the years. But she’d found other parts, more dangerous parts. Parts that were unkillable. 

It was this part of her that watched without emotion as the man choked for air, seizing in his futile quest for air, and finally dropping into unconsciousness. 

She let him go, then, but it was very hard to do. 

Peter found her seconds later, halting abruptly in the doorway and staring at the motionless hunter on the floor at her feet. He looked to her, then, eyes flaring at the crumpled bullets at her feet, and finally reaching her face. 

“I didn’t kill him,” she said hoarsely. 

“I know. I can hear his heartbeat,” Peter said, not looking away from her. 

“I understand why my mom was the way she was,” Darcy told him when he said nothing further, unable to look him in the face. From shame, or the lack thereof, she wondered. “He enjoyed his work.” 

“And he’ll die for it,” Peter said calmly. “Men like this don’t deserve any sympathy or forgiveness, love.”

Darcy couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from the hunter’s crumpled form. “I wish I could have known her.” 

Peter stepped over then, sliding one hand around to cup her head and the other around her shoulders, neatly positioning himself between her and the hunter. 

“My brave girl,” he sighed into her hair, holding her tight when she sagged against him. “You carry those people you’ve lost with you always. They’re present and real and alive in your heart, such a part of you that one cannot exist without the other. You find them in memories, little quirks you picked up from them, in every part of yourself that was changed by them. She’s not gone, Darcy. She’s still with you.” 

Darcy bit her lip as her eyes blurred. She let her dad hold her close, soothe the worst of the hurt away. Grief was as much a part of her as her blue eyes, or the scars on her body, the tattoos on her skin and the magic beneath it. 

His words made the grief hurt a little less. 

“This is a dark place,” he murmured. “Brings back bad memories, doesn’t it?” 

“Yeah.” She cleared her throat. “And he just seemed so… apathetic about what he’d done. All those people he killed. I’m so tired of seeing good people die, Dad.”

“Well, he won’t be hurting anyone else, thanks to you.” He swept a hand over her hair, so gentle she wanted to cry. “Our people are getting their feet back underneath them, and this time we have sparks acting as pillars of support. We’ll change our world for the better, darling. It just takes time.” 

She let him hold her for a while longer, until Allison and Chris came looking for them. And then, together, they cuffed the hunters in magic-enforced restraints, called for a pickup, and took the killers to be held at the compound. 

They would face justice soon enough, decided by a tribunal of leaders of the supernatural world. A test run of the fledgling judicial system that Laura and Santiago had been building for their kind- a test run that Darcy awaited with savage anticipation. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Маленький волк: little wolf
> 
> Peter's one of my favorite to write, which is probably why he keeps showing up in scenes unplanned lol
> 
> Six Sentence Sunday


	13. Naomi: Siege

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> extra update this week because I'm making progress! next update will be Sunday, as usual

**13: SIEGE**

**_Naomi_ **

Sayali, ever faithful, was still waiting where they’d left her just outside the city limits by the numerous warning signs. She seemed crestfallen at Ajay’s absence, tapered ears drooping to the side when Naomi returned without him. 

“I know, but your new friend couldn’t stay.” She ruffled the soft blue-black fur between Sayali’s ears. “But you’ll be happy to know that our new goal is to make Consul Faraco’s life a living hell.” And maybe she’d check in on Ajay’s mother, make sure there were no other small children at risk of being forced into servitude.

She was pondering the many ways they could make Faraco miserable as they started the long walk back to the city when Sayali suddenly snapped to attention, fixating on the empty sky. 

Naomi followed her gaze, wondering what had the Arcos so alert, but the sky was clear and open in every direction she looked. Nothing in sight but the occasional dragon flying by overhead. 

But Sayali still sniffed the air, positively vibrating with tension, and growled low in her throat as she paced in tight, anxious circles around Naomi. 

“There’s nothing… there,” she finished faintly, finally noticing the quiet ripple of air passing nearly sixty feet above them. It was far larger than the lady captain’s ship had been, a silent quiver of air that stretched nearly a hundred feet across. It appeared to be using a similar method of camouflage as Captain Linnea’s vessel. 

If it was a ship, it was a big one, and it didn’t seem to be going towards the trading ports twenty miles east. Instead it approached the heart of the city- heading straight for the palace. 

Sayali bristled, her growls rising in volume, building into a steady, rumbling roar. She began to pace, the blue-black fur along her spine standing on end. 

“Why would they hide from sight if they weren’t up to something?” Naomi wondered, heart suddenly pounding in her ears. Whatever magic kept the ship concealed from sight seemed to work on the rest of the people they passed over, and the silent craft steered between various swooping dragons with meticulous skill. 

She called her spark to the surface, let it swell beneath her skin so that her eyes shone gold. The magic worked as a lens to filter and identify other magics, including other non-human Beings. 

She took another look at the odd air current through the lens of her spark and then took off at a dead sprint. 

Dread clutched at her with sharp nails as she took in the distance between her and the palace, the speed of the ships that were now maneuvering into position. She saw one massive ship in the center, armed for war, flanked by two smaller crafts with menacing cannons fixed to the sides. 

Too slow, too far. Too late. 

Sayali angled in front of her, ears pinned and teeth snapping loudly to clear the busy street. Naomi hardly took notice of the people scrambling out of their path, eyes wide and bewildered as the two of them barreled through the streets. 

They’d never make it in time- the ships were too close to the palace, already angling carefully into position to fire. Naomi swore desperately, threw out a hand to send a bolt of her magic rocketing ahead of them. 

“C’mon, c’mon,” she panted, only distantly aware of Sayali knocking an unshifted dragon clear off his feet when he refused to move. Outraged shouts and crashing noises trailed them, but she only had eyes for the magic streaking across the sky and finally slamming into the massive windows where Vahid would be with Darius and the rest of the advisory council. 

She’d bought them only a few seconds of warning, could only hope and pray that Vahid understood in time to get to cover as the ship finally opened fire. 

The palace windows imploded, lethal shards of glass shattering inwards with explosive force. 

The smaller ships split off, providing cover as small shapes darted down a ramp from the main ship and through the ruined window. Smoke billowed out of the room and towards the sky- but it was olive colored and thicker than smoke from a dragon’s fire, which couldn’t mean anything good. 

The camouflage remained intact as the small ships fired indiscriminately on the dragons spilling out of the palace, coughing and leaning heavily on each other. 

From somewhere within the palace, a roar shook the sky. Relief was short-lived, though, as the roar cut off abruptly and the same figures reappeared, dragging something back onto the ship with them. 

Naomi cursed. She’d barely cleared the second sector, hadn’t even reached the library yet. Too far to create an effective shield, not against blasts with this kind of power. 

The smaller ships turned their fire suddenly to the streets- and then the screaming started. 

The first strike slammed into headquarters of the Ruling Council for Mages right as she passed it. The blast threw Naomi to the ground, ears ringing and vision blurry as she slowly climbed back to her feet. All around her, dragons and humans and shifters searched frantically for the source of the explosion with rising panic.

The camouflage, Naomi realized. No one else could see the ships. She shook her head to clear the last of the ear ringing, Sayali whining frantically at her side as she helped Naomi stagger a few steps away from the damage. 

A shifted dragon swooped in, fire streaming from its open maw as they searched for the source of the attack. Naomi gritted her teeth and sent a pulse of magic towards the closest ship. It hit with a concussive  _ boom _ that drew the focus of the dragons in the streets.

Shouts of alarm from those on deck reached her ears. She was darkly satisfied to hear panic in their voices even as the camouflage flickered and then went out. The dragons surrounding her in the rubble honed in on the threat. 

But the craft was small and light, able to dip and weave through their attackers. A fired cannon caught a passing dragon in the side and sent them spinning back to the ground with a final, earth-shaking crash. 

She limped onwards, trusting Sayali to guide her as she twisted around and sent another rapid-fire burst of her spark towards the ship. There was a deafening crack as the deck splintered, and the dragons swooped in on the injured prey. She heard the sounds of the dragons systematically destroying the boat, of wood splintering and crashing to the ground.

The peaceful city of Nova Solis was unrecognizable. Shouts and screams carried through the streets for miles, smoke from dragon fire and whatever chemical was in the first round of bombs settling in a suffocating haze over the city. 

But Naomi was still able to make out Idri stalking out of the library with tangible rage, dark hair swirling around her face as she made for the palace, skidding on loose stones and dodging larger pieces of rubble with only inches to spare. 

Naomi picked up speed, trying to catch up with her. 

The second guard ship turned its focus on the lone figure making her way to the heavy damaged palace. 

A tall, dark figure stumbled onto a ruined balcony in the palace and barely remained upright as they clung to a pillar, taking in the situation in the city with one sweeping glance. 

Sayali snarled a warning, and the person on the balcony screamed,  _ “Idri!” _ only a heartbeat before the ship opened fire. 

Cannon blasts rained down on the street where Idri stood, flinging stone and grass into the air before thick black smoke hid everything from sight. 

Soraya screamed from the balcony again, collapsing against the pillar and coughing heavily through the green smoke still drifting through the air. 

The blasts stopped as abruptly as they began. The ship hovered in place as the smoke thinned, then cleared entirely- only to reveal a shield of solid gold power humming with raw, unfiltered energy. 

Naomi felt a trembling hand touch her shoulder. She opened her eyes to see Idri crouched inches away, eyes wide and unseeing. 

“Naomi? Did you just…” Idri trailed off, face pale and shocked. 

“Hold that thought,” Naomi told her as the ship fired at the shield once, testing its limits. It held fast, absorbing the blow and dragonglass shards with ease. 

Naomi stood, having fallen to her knees in a desperate last-second dive across the stone street to reach Idri in time, and let her simmering rage bubble to the surface. 

Her shield dissolved with a thought. She took a breath, assessed the ship in a quick glance, and hammered it with her magic before they could open fire. 

Two bolts of her bright-hot magic and the mast buckled. Another made the cannons explode. A fourth hit destroyed the steering wheel, sent the ship careening off course.

A fifth, and Naomi ripped the ship from the sky. 

Splinters of wood rained down upon them and littered the ruined streets, flags and pieces of the ship burning without abandon. But Naomi ignored it, raising her hands in preparation to stop the escaping master ship as it sailed overhead. 

A hand closed around her wrist with bruising strength, forced her arms to lower. 

“Don’t,” Soraya rasped, bleeding heavily from scattered wounds embedded with shards of dragonglass. “Darius is on that ship. If we damage it, they might kill him in retaliation.” 

Horror filled her as Idri gasped. Soraya turned to the High Sage and cupped her face with gentle hands, not releasing her until she was certain Idri had escaped harm. Idri’s fingers brushed a wound on Soraya’s muscled arm and she swallowed hard. “You’re bleeding.” 

“I’ll live,” Soraya said. She gently batted Idri’s hands away from the dragonglass embedded in her skin, assessing the High Sage’s fingertips left singed from the brief touch. 

Naomi clutched Sayali’s ruff and found the courage to ask, “Vahid?” 

“Alive,” she said shortly, then gestured for her to follow. A unit of dragons flew overhead in a tight formation, aiming for the damaged parts of the city as another unit scoured the skies for any lingering threats. 

Soraya helped Idri through the streets littered with rubble from the attack, glancing back once at Naomi to say, “Your warning probably saved us all. Vahid understood instantly.” 

“You undoubtedly saved me,” Idri added. “I planned to join the council after my meeting with the Sages. Had you not been there when I left the library, Naomi, I would be dead.” 

Soraya’s mouth went tight and she closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them, Naomi was shocked to see open vulnerability in the dragon’s expression even as Idri continued, “Thank you, Lady Spark.” 

Before Naomi could answer, two Mages in blue robes raced by. She watched with slight envy as they gestured with their hands and stepped into the wind current that picked them up and carried them to where green smoke still poured from the palace window. 

“No one goes in!” Soraya shouted. The gathered healers stared at her in confusion. “Remain outside- there is poison in the smoke still.” 

Idri made a low noise of understanding, the lines of her face growing tight. 

“Poison?” Naomi asked, fear for Vahid rising. 

Soraya just led them up the stone railing that had broken from the upper levels and now made a ramp to the room. “Sayali, wait here,” Naomi said, and threw herself past them to where Vahid sat, head and shoulders bowed. He looked up at the commotion, relief clear on his face at the sight of her. 

“Vahid,” she said, falling to her knees beside him. Her hands went to his jaw, eyes finding hundreds of small wounds from the explosion. “Are you okay?” 

“They had shards of dragonglass packed in the cannonballs,” he said, dazed, looking around the carnage. Two advisors lay dead across the room. A few others had to be carried to the healers waiting outside. 

She saw Consul Faraco speaking in low, urgent tones to a servant hovering outside the room. Consuls Tahj and Radia sat together, bleeding profusely from their own wounds that stained their clothes and skin. High Mage Ziadie, she noted, was absent.

A sickly sweet smell hung in the air, making her feel slightly dizzy. It was the green smoke, she realized after a sharp jolt of pain zinged through her head. The wind Mages outside were working furiously to drag it out of the palace, faces covered by masks that must be filtering out the smoke. 

Kaveh barked orders to a couple of dragons with the dragon military insignia on their clothes, sending them with instructions to dispatch more relief units through the damaged parts of the city and find the injured or dead within the smoldering heaps of rubble.

And amidst the chaos stood Soraya, arms crossed as she leaned back against the wall under the destroyed window and observed the commotion with a vague air of contempt. The eye of a hurricane unimpressed with the whirling debris surrounding it. 

“Close the door,” she said finally, far quieter than the commotion within the room. But the others heard her, caught sight of her dangerous calm and obeyed instantly and without question. 

She looked around the room, sent the Mages scurrying with a jerk of her head until only the council and Naomi remained. 

Idri cocked her head in Naomi’s direction, dark hair spilling over her shoulders, and Naomi subtly warded the room from eavesdroppers. One of the council Mages looked up sharply, eyes wide and wary, but she ignored him as Idri quietly informed Soraya of their assured privacy. 

“They would not let Rahim near this room,” Vahid murmured, barely audible. Naomi glanced at him, running a hand over his blood-matted hair to reassure herself that he was okay, he was still alive and there with her. “Noor scented the smoke and dragged him away before he could try to enter.” 

An odd reaction, considering Darius had been taken and his other siblings were in the room and potentially in danger. Why would Rahim be kept from them at such a time?

“The Prime has been kidnapped,” Soraya said, her voice ringing clear and firm through the wreckage. “And that information will not leave this room.” Dark eyes promised a painful death to anyone who disobeyed. “The city needs time to recover, and they cannot do that if they do not have faith that their leaders are present. Am I understood?” 

No one, not even a purple-faced Consul Faraco, argued. 

“Good. See a healer, every one of you. We will reconvene when the second sun sets.” Soraya shook her head when Naomi moved to help Vahid out the door, gesturing for them to stay put as Idri fetched a healer for him. “Wait. We need to talk.” 

“You’re damn right we do,” Naomi snapped. Vahid reached up to cover her hand with his own, tempering her mingled panic and frustration. 

“Meet us in Darius’s rooms when you’re done,” she ordered, and stalked over to Kaveh. Whatever she said to him had him frowning, eyes solemn and mouth in a tense line before he nodded and left. 

The healing process was long and painful for everyone involved. Naomi could only watch with helpless anger as the healer delicately removed the dragonglass embedded in Vahid’s skin, slowly patching up the weeping cuts until finally Vahid stopped them. 

“Thank you,” he said sincerely, “but there are more important things to be dealt with at the moment. I will be fine.” 

“I got all the dragonglass out, but those cuts won’t heal well on their own,” the healer said anxiously. 

“They will. I’m afraid that time is of the essence here, though, and we cannot delay our discussion with the royals.” Vahid stopped Naomi’s protests with an adamant shake of his head. She sighed, knowing better than to try and argue him on it, and let him reach for her hand and tug her in the direction of Darius’s rooms. 

She whistled loud and long for Sayali. They waited as the Arcos raced around to the closest entrance and found them before continuing down the damaged halls. 

“How did they take him so quickly?” Naomi asked, feeling the fire of adrenaline fade from her veins, leaving her fumbling and with an unsteady heart rate. 

“The smoke knocked us all unconscious for a whole minute,” he said, “and the dragonglass weakened us too badly to fly after the ship. By the time we even realized he’d been taken, they were almost clear of the city limits.” 

He glanced at her. “Without your warning, the first cannon blast would have killed me and most of the council.” 

“I’m just thankful you knew what it meant,” she confessed, heart in her throat. “And that you could get to cover in time.” 

Vahid shook his head, rubbed at his chest. “That smoke… I can still feel its effects. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.” 

“It was Cobaena,” Noor said from behind them. They flinched in surprise, the shifter having approached without a sound. “A plant that grows in the darkest, deepest parts of the Iroka Wilds. It’s poisonous to dragonkin.” 

They reached the rooms, where raised voices could be heard through the thick wooden doors. “Wait.” They paused, waited for Noor to speak. He seemed to debate himself for a moment before saying, “It’s time you learned what really happened to Sargon. You know it, I know it, and they know it. Demand answers.” 

“I plan to,” Naomi said firmly, and pulled Vahid through the doors. Noor slipped in behind them and waited by the entrance. Sayali elected to stay with him. 

Rahim and Soraya argued fiercely in the center of the room, Kaveh pacing along the massive wall of reinforced windows as Esteri stared blankly into a cup of steaming tea. The royals all turned at their entrance, but it was Idri who told them, “Sit, please.” 

The High Sage was as disheveled as Naomi had ever seen, visibly weary with wet lashes. Vahid sat without hesitation, collapsing without his usual grace. He still seemed winded, she noted with concern, and weak. 

“Enough,” Naomi said, turning to them. “I’ve had enough of the secrets, and the lying. You need to tell us what’s going on.” 

Soraya bristled- instinctively, it seemed, against orders- but deflated when Idri said, “Soraya. Please. She’s right.” 

Before she could answer, Rahim made a choking sound and staggered. Noor lunged, caught him before he could fall and held him until he came back around again as the others waited again in sick silence. 

He breathed weakly when he roused again, eyes closing in defeat as he said, “I  _ can’t-” _

“I know,” Noor murmured. He didn’t look away from Rahim when he softly said, “Kaveh.” 

Kaveh silently retrieved a gilded wheelchair from the other room, wheeled it over and helped lift his twin into it. Rahim looked too exhausted to be as frustrated as he wanted to be. 

“It was the damned Cobaena,” he sighed as Noor crouched on the balls of his feet in front of him, watching with dark, worried eyes. “I thought we got away fast enough, but…” Noor just rested a hand on his thigh in silent support. 

“Cobaena,” Naomi repeated. “Which I’m assuming is how they subdued the entire leadership of Nova Solis in a single blow?” 

“Tell them,” Noor said, fixated on Soraya. “They need to know, or Darius will die.” 

Soraya’s mouth twisted, but she turned to Naomi and Vahid and said bluntly, “Our father was murdered, and we still do not know by whom.” 

“Killed? Sargon?” Vahid said with audible disbelief. “He was the greatest dragon I have ever known. How did someone manage to kill the Dragon Prime with nearly two millennia of experience?” 

Her shoulders slumped, and she finally sat. “Around twenty five solar cycles ago, Nakano clan members began to disappear. Carried off by dragons, some said, but we could never find their people within the city. And we looked. Oh, how we looked. But we never found them. Not one.” 

Idri wove their fingers together and picked up the tale. “Tensions between our people escalated, of course. The Nakano either did not believe us or thought us dismissive of their losses. But Sargon fought hard to keep communication open between himself and Chief Kanoa, promised that he would get to the bottom of it. He set his children on the trail of the kidnappers, had everyone within our trusted circle investigating the disappearances.” 

“And then, at dinner one night,” Rahim said quietly, staring at his hands folded in his lap, “someone slipped raw Cobaena extract into our drinks.” 

“Our?” Vahid asked gently. 

“My father’s,” he said dully, “and my own. We were dining alone together that night, as I had…” He flicked a glance at Noor, so quick Naomi barely caught it, “something unrelated to discuss with him.” 

“Sargon ingested too much,” Idri said kindly when Rahim faltered. “He died within minutes. But Rahim hadn’t had much more than a small sip of his own drink, so he escaped the same fate.” 

“For all that was worth,” he said bitterly. “Now I’m nothing. Just a broken prince.” Noor snarled at that, the other royals whirling on him too, but Rahim ignored them all. “My father died right in front of me, and I am left with seizures and pain and constant sickness.” He gestured to the wheelchair. “Many days I am too weak to walk on my own. The royal healer doesn’t think I will ever fly again, let alone even shift.” 

Kaveh rested a hand on his brother’s shoulder, grim and red-eyed. “There were no servants that we suspected, but later that night a patrol discovered two human bodies in the burnt lower levels of the Prime’s wing of the palace. We believe whoever instructed the servants to poison Father and Rahim killed them and tried to plant the evidence on them, as both bodies had cracked vials of labeled Cobaena poison in their pockets.” 

“And the burnt wing of the palace?” Naomi asked. 

Soraya stared blankly at where Idri’s soft hands held her own. “I found my father dead on the floor, my brother so still that I believed him also dead and I… I reacted poorly. I lost control.” There was an undercurrent of shame in her voice, something far too much like weakness from the formidable dragon. 

“We kept the details quiet,” Idri continued for her. “Because we had no evidence, no suspects, nothing to point us in the right direction. If we started pointing fingers, causing hysteria and wild accusations, the leadership of Nova Solis would crumble.” 

Vahid frowned. “It sounds a lot like someone intended to use Sargon’s death as an opportunity to take over.” 

“Yes.” Soraya straightened, took a deep breath. “But they weren’t counting on one thing.” 

“What’s that?” 

“High Mage Natoya, and her role in Sargon’s plan to stay one step ahead of the conspirators.” 

Natoya, High Mage Ziadie’s predecessor who, if Naomi was remembering the more believable rumors correctly, had  _ also _ died under strange circumstances.

Across the room, Esteri stirred to life as though woken by the Mage’s name. She pulled her braids over one shoulder as she twisted to face Naomi and Vahid. “Natoya was a descendent of a spark,” she revealed. “She did not have the true strength of one, not after centuries of her ancestor’s magic intermingling and filtering out through human and Mage bloodlines, but she was stronger than most in the Ruling Council.” 

“But she died, too, didn’t she? Not long after Sargon?” 

“Yes. She…” Esteri bit her lip. “She was tortured to death, by the looks of it.” Vahid sucked in a breath, grip tightened almost painfully on Naomi’s hand. 

“There’s more,” Soraya said wearily. She pried a stray piece of dragonglass off of her shirt and inspected it, unflinching even as it burned her fingers until Idri made a noise of disapproval. The obsidian glass glinted like an oil spill when she set it on the table, a reminder of the ingenuity and lethal weaponry that they’d just faced. 

Outside the second sun dipped low in the sky, the horizon beckoning even as the first sun faded from sight. The dragons who’d been in the attack- Soraya, Vahid, Kaveh- healed slowly, blood still trickling from their wounds as the ship carrying the dragon Prime made it further into the unknown.

Naomi straightened abruptly. “Darius- we should… shouldn’t someone be going after them?” 

Soraya pulled a roll of parchment from her sleeve and tossed it onto the table beside the dragonglass. “They left a note. The essentials are, _ ‘Try to come for your brother and he dies.’  _ But there’s something you should know, anyway.” 

Idri picked up the conversation seamlessly once again. “The creation of Nova Solis required a great deal of magical force. Mages and dragons came together to remove the city from the ground- for a multitude of reasons, safety of the citizens being the primary one, both human and dragon- and together they accomplished it. But the magic powering the city had to be linked to something stable and strong enough to hold it.” 

Her lessons with Idri meant that Naomi knew this world had very few inhabitants upon their arrival, and certainly no dragons. And while the humans they’d brought with them scattered across the globe, rapidly reproducing and building their own civilizations and customs, the dragons remained mostly insular. 

And while dragon society had allegedly improved since the earlier days, they still remained distant from other human and shifter societies. Even today, non-dragons were barely integrated into upper society within Nova Solis, and few were given the same respect and rank as the dragons. 

Which meant, of course, that they weren’t as familiar with outside magics or the consequences of using it incorrectly. Especially if they disregarded advice from the magic-users. 

But even so- “Surely they didn’t link it to a dragon.” Naomi’s astonishment was evident in her voice. 

“They did. Sargon accepted the burden. The High Mage tied the Prime’s own draconic magic to the power drawn to keep the city afloat. He was the anchor keeping the magic and city tied together.” 

“But when he died, the city should have fallen,” Naomi said, mind racing through the implications. Without an anchor, the magic would have dispersed, its ties breaking without any stabilization. 

“Yes. But Sargon had his suspicions. I believe he thought someone within the palace plotted against him and his children, seeking power. He  _ planned _ on it.” 

“The five of us now hold the city,” Soraya said gravely. “Natoya transferred the anchor to all of us only days before my father died.” 

“And now we cannot leave the city, not at the same time.” Kaveh’s shoulders were tight, his face drawing into a deep scowl. “Or the anchor fails and Nova Solis will fall.” 

Naomi had a brief, horrible flashback to her vision from the other day, the sickening feeling that something terrible was coming. 

She really hated being right.

“So the city is tied to all of you? Why can none of you leave? Sargon held the city alone,” Vahid pointed out. “I don’t see why all of you must remain here.” 

“Whatever magic linked us to the city,” Rahim said quietly, “made the burden equal for all of us. It meant the ties were stronger with five to hold it instead of one. But this illness affects my ability to maintain my part of it, which has weakened the anchor. It isn’t stable anymore.”  _ Because of me _ remained unspoken, but they all heard his meaning, could read it in the miserable downturn of his mouth.

“And now with Darius gone, it won’t take much at all for the anchor to fail entirely. So that,” Soraya said tightly, “is why none of us can go save my brother.” Her voice cracked on the last word. 

“That isn’t true,” Vahid said. Everyone turned to stare at him. He sat straight in his seat, determination fierce in his silver eyes.  _ “I _ am not tied to this city.” 

“Neither am I,” Naomi said, immediately understanding what he was offering. Now that the truth was out, the stakes revealed, she knew what they had to do. 

Hope crept tentatively into the room, dissolving the helpless grief that had already darkened towards mourning for their brother. 

“But you know very little about this realm,” Idri pointed out. “Not nearly enough to track these people, let alone find out who they were and what they want.” 

“I think we might be uniquely qualified for it, actually.” Naomi dragged her teeth over her bottom lip and admitted, “We spent some time with the Nakano. Six months or so.”  Everyone but Soraya and Idri showed surprise- except for Noor, she realized, who also seemed to have also known that information already. Interesting. 

“They will help,” Vahid insisted. “We stayed with them long enough to create a relationship entirely separate from anyone within Nova Solis. We agreed to help look for their lost people when we came here.” 

“We’ll need a ship,” Naomi said, eyeing Vahid closely. “You’re still too weak to fly for very long, much less carry me and another person.” She had a sudden thought and jerked to her feet. “I need to send a message to the Nakano, right now. There’s someone with a ship, and if we’re fast enough we might be able to catch her. I need to talk to-” She stopped, not wanting to out the Nakano in the palace.

“Sonia,” Rahim finished for her, smiling faintly at her shock as Noor instantly made for the closed doorway. 

They’d known about the Nakano plant this whole time? “You know who she is?” 

Noor flicked his gaze to her face as he passed by, faint amusement showing. “Sonia is my grandmother.” He left the room, presumably to find her. 

Rahim helpfully explained when she and Vahid stared open-mouthed after Noor. “Sonia isn’t a shifter, obviously, but she did marry one, and their son married another from a different pack from the Wilds. Sonia came to the city to be with Noor first, and then began reporting back to the Nakano when their people started to disappear.” 

“So you’ve known all along. Does she know you know?” Gods, her head hurt.

“Yes- everyone in the room, anyway. Not the council. It was a useful way to communicate with the Nakano, at least before they stopped believing that we intend to find their people.” Idri grimaced. “We hope to mend those relations before the damage is permanent.” 

“But first we have to get Darius back,” Soraya said. She stared hard at Naomi and Vahid. “You would really go after them? You’d try to bring him back?” 

“You are my family,” Vahid said quietly. “I know we were apart for many years, but…” He looked at them all, the royals listening with something like shame on their faces, “I love everyone in this room. You are all I have. I would do anything for any one of you.” 

His admission was met with ringing silence until, “I’m sorry, Vahid,” Rahim whispered. “You came all this way to find us and we’ve treated you like a potential threat instead of family. Sargon would be ashamed of us.” 

“Darius insisted you would never betray us,” Kaveh murmured, staring out the window. “‘Not Vahid,’ he said. ‘Never Vahid.’” 

“You were the unknown,” Soraya told Naomi, unapologetic. “The last sparks in this realm-”

“Went dark side? Yeah, I figured that one out myself.” Naomi shook her head. “It seems that all sorts of trouble follow my kind, and if it doesn’t then we make it ourselves. I am sorry, though, that they were less than they should have been.” 

“A true Sentinel would never have done the things they did,” Vahid said stubbornly. She saw the way everyone reacted to the title, though, and understood that there was a dark, heavy history behind that word in this realm. 

“But they ruined that name,” Naomi said with a wry smile. Kaveh nodded once. “That’s okay. I’m not much of a guardian here.” 

“I beg to differ,” Idri said with a warm smile. 

A quick knock signaled Noor’s return with Sonia- and yeah, she saw the resemblance between them now. Realized they must have deliberately kept apart from each other to prevent anyone else from catching it. 

“It’s true?” Sonia asked immediately after the door closed. The Ocak perched on her shoulder, surveying the room with bright interest. “The Prime has been taken?” 

“Yes.” 

The Weaver took an unsteady breath, as rattled as Naomi had ever seen her. 

“Naomi and Vahid have offered to go after the kidnappers,” Rahim said. “Noor said you assisted with a runaway earlier today? Is there a chance the people involved could help?” 

“Specifically the one with the ship?” Kaveh added helpfully.

Sonia frowned. “She is not overly fond of dragons. But for this, if  _ I _ ask… Perhaps. I will write her now.” She glanced at the setting suns. “Nalani willing, she’ll still be with the clan.”  Esteri provided paper and a quill so she could write her message. 

“So you all knew we were helping with the escape?” Naomi asked. 

“Not of your involvement, no. But we are usually made aware of anyone attempting to leave the city,” Idri said in an aside. “Sonia notifies us so we can keep track of whose servants are trying to leave, to mark whose human servants are mistreated or underpaid.” 

“So you knew about Faraco’s servant?” 

Idri frowned. “We do not know specifics until it is finished and they are safely away. It’s better that way for everyone. But this one was Faraco’s?” 

“A boy, very young. He said Faraco tried to make him spy on the other council members.” 

“Hm,” was all Idri said in response.

Sonia slid the rolled up parchment into a pocket sewn onto the Ocak’s harness, so perfectly dyed that Naomi hadn’t even noticed it against the bird’s pink feathers before now. 

She opened a window. “Hurry.” The bird took flight with a chirp, dipping playfully at Sayali before soaring out the window. 

Sonia turned to the room, studied them all. “There is nothing to do now but wait. Soraya, you will see a healer. Your wounds have yet to close, which means there is more dragonglass in them. The rest of you-” she looked pointedly at Vahid’s bloodied state- “take a bath and prepare to leave at a moment’s notice.” 

“We should pack,” Naomi agreed. 

“I will pack your bags for you. Neither of you have any idea what to prepare for outside of Nova Solis or Kailua.” 

“Fine. There’s a flight cloak and a few Nakano daggers in the bag under the bed,” Naomi said. “I’ll want those, too, if the captain agrees to take us.” Then she frowned over at Sayali, wondering if they should leave her here.

Sonia followed her gaze and made a negative sound. “If you’re hunting, you will need the Arcos at your side. A shifter would be better since they can talk back, but I doubt my grandson would leave his prince’s side for anything now.”  Noor’s cheeks were pink and he refused to acknowledge her pointed stare. But Rahim was smiling down at his hands, soft and shy.  “And it’s no use wasting time to find the shifter packs, let alone try to convince any of them to help. You’ll have to make do with your dragon and Arcos, Lady Spark. And, if we’re lucky, Captain Linnea will agree to take you all.” 

Naomi raised a brow when the rest of the room visibly reacted to the captain’s name. Soraya and Idri shared an unspoken communication as though they could read each other’s minds. Esteri’s eyes went wide with excitement and wonder, but Kaveh only looked concerned. 

“Captain Linnea? The  _ Revenant? _ But she’s-” He trailed off at the expression on Sonia’s face.

“She’s what?” Sonia challenged. 

“A legend,” Esteri breathed on a dreamy sigh. Soraya rolled her eyes. 

“She steals from our suppliers all the time!” Kaveh said, indignant. “And resells it at twice the price! She runs circles around my patrols!” 

Sonia snorted. “And what of it? She  _ is _ a pirate, Kaveh.” She made a shooing motion towards them all. “Go. Bathe. Rest. I will find you when she sends her response.” 

Naomi felt the grime of the day’s events on her skin, knew that Vahid undoubtedly felt even worse, so she helped him stand and hobble to the doors to find their bath and a change of clothes. 

“Naomi.” Soraya’s voice stopped her cold. She glanced back in question and met the dragon’s dark eyes. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” Naomi said quietly, honestly, and left the royals sitting silently in their brother’s room, his absence as painful as a knife through the ribs for them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaand we're finally reaching the fun part of the plot lol


	14. Darcy: Demon Riders

**14: DEMON RIDERS**

_**Darcy** _

Enraged swearing from the compound’s holding cells made Darcy smile as she walked the halls the day after capturing the rogue hunters. The cells were built to contain the likes of feral werewolves and Fae assassins- a handful of human psychos offered no threat.

“Pissy bunch,” one of the guards commented to his partner as she passed them by. He straightened hurriedly upon noticing her. “Nice job bringing them in, Sentinel Lewis.” He flushed crimson at her friendly smile of thanks. She left them to it, laughing to herself when the guard’s partner elbowed him and muttered something teasing that made him squawk in offense. 

She made her way past the training grounds, where Maria Hill and Steve worked with the newest recruits- an odd mixture of humans and supernaturals, all with the same driving force: to make the world a safer place. They’d be sorted into teams soon, put through their paces by different Avengers and pack members to ensure they were prepared for anything they might face. 

These teams might mean the difference between an equilibrium and genocide when the supernatural secret came out. Two sparks couldn’t keep their world safe alone. They’d need help, support from people who sought the same peace. 

It seemed, miraculously, that they just might have that support. And while they trained, Darcy and Stiles quietly mapped the people and places that would need help the most when the day came, planning where to station each team. They made the decision early on not to inform the pack that these teams were a safety net, should both sparks meet an untimely end. 

A wise choice, apparently, considering the state of their kind. Nonexistent wasn’t quite the right word. She was _sure_ there were other sparks out there, countless people like her whose magic just hadn’t presented yet. It was just a matter of finding them. 

Darcy’s walk carried her past the compound grounds, along the winding path lined with layers of runes to protect the power source of the compound’s wards. 

She smiled to find Stiles already there, his magic a bright counterpoint to the steady pulse of the nemeton. 

The nemeton they’d made. They’d discovered years ago that sparks had a history with the creation of nemetons, knowledge so secret that it’d taken a personal journal of a long-deceased spark who’d written of their own experiences with grounding a convergence- in an ancient language, no less- to realize their potential. 

Nemetons were the central point of a convergence of telluric currents, or ley lines, that stretched thousands of miles and were closely interconnected with countless other ley lines. Its power was so magnetic that supernatural creatures could feel it from hundreds of miles away. 

By channeling all of the ley lines at the convergence into a single focal point, they could anchor that power and create an endless, stable power source. 

While druids could connect to a nemeton and use its power, sparks alone balanced the nemeton’s magic. Without their influence, nemetons would lose the magic binding the currents to the anchor. 

Sometimes the nemeton simply shriveled up and died, and those ley lines faded into near obscurity, unreachable to anyone but a spark. Other times, though, the nemeton became unstable- and left vulnerable to attack. Black witches or Darachs- druids gone darkside- could corrupt the nemeton, use its power for dark acts that stained the earth and would eventually cause a natural disaster or drive the supernatural residents insane. They’d discovered a feral pack of werewolves near one such nemeton a few years ago, and not a single one of them could be saved. 

Without a spark walking the earth, tracking those ley lines to their natural convergences and ensuring they remained healthy, the entirety of the supernatural world would eventually fall to the same fate. 

_How_ this knowledge had been lost was beyond her. The fate of the world quite literally depended on it, and they’d only happened across the information in a spark’s diary that was hundreds of years old. Her own mother had never breathed a word of it to her… not that they’d had much time together. 

Stiles’s mother, though, had balanced the nemeton in Beacon Hills. Between her years living in the town and the stable, healthy werewolf pack protecting its borders, the Beacon Hills nemeton had thrived. 

Still. The irony wasn’t lost on her- the world had turned on the sparks, watched them be massacred, and in doing so had signed their own death warrants. 

Whatever force had been watching out for her the day she’d found the Hales, the day she’d stepped foot on the lands within the Beacon Hills nemeton’s reach, had saved them all. 

She’d wondered at the sheer chance of it all often enough. Had felt plenty of delayed panic at the thought of what would have happened without the Hales taking her in, keeping her guarded and close to the nemeton. 

She’d pictured nemetons all over the world corrupting, driving the supernaturals mad, until they couldn’t tell friend from foe, until they had lost all semblance of their own identity and become killing machines set loose on an unsuspecting human population. It made her nauseous, how close they’d come to such a fate. 

But now, at least, she wasn’t alone. 

The nemeton hummed in welcome as she approached, telluric currents that felt like electric wires brushing against her magic. The earth was thriving here, grass growing fast and lush beneath her feet, flowers blooming no matter the season. This nemeton was young, a recent connection of shifting ley lines, but strong enough that she mentally could trace the ley lines for a hundred miles without effort. 

Grounding a nemeton was a tricky thing. It’d taken the majority of a year to figure out how to even begin, going off of the vague details and contextual clues from the diary and whatever other ancient books Peter or Kira could find for them on magic and telluric currents. 

Elemental sources were the key. Water worked considerably well, when they could use it as a centralized point that pooled with the natural energies pouring into it, flowing and redirecting magic along the ley lines. Flame and air were too erratic, but the stability of earth worked best as a grounding point for convergences.

So when she and Stiles had come across an abandoned, dried up well embedded deep within the bedrock, they’d known nothing else would serve as well for an anchor. Using the magic of the convergence in conjunction with their own sparks, they’d widened the hole in the earth until it was nearly fifteen feet in diameter. 

Old stone from the well had been repurposed as a long, winding staircase that led deep into the earth, wide and open and _alive_ enough that they didn’t feel trapped. Inside, it felt like standing within the heartbeat of the earth, warm and positively brimming with energy from the ley lines that wound around them like an affectionate cat. The stones at the base hummed beneath her feet, a low and comforting frequency in her ears. 

She followed the stairs down to the base, only ten feet or so in depth, fingers trailing along the welcoming hum of the stone inlay. It made her heart race, standing within this well of power. It felt something like hallowed ground, leaving her awed every time she connected with the heart of the earth’s magic. 

Stiles sat in the center of the room, cross-legged with his eyes closed. She smiled to see his spark bleeding into the ground so that the stones were outlined in golden magic. 

He peeled an eye open at her descent but said nothing until she’d settled across from him, knees touching and magic intermingling with his. 

“You look tired,” he murmured. 

“Trouble sleeping,” she admitted. She’d been plagued with nightmares during the few nights after capturing the rogue hunters. “I was up most of the night repainting the living room.” 

He cracked a smile. “Derek is very invested in your color choice.” 

“Don’t tell him, but we just played rock-paper-scissors to make a final call.” 

Stiles snorted a laugh. “Can’t blame you. Where’s your other half? Thought he was coming with you today.” 

“He and Sam are hanging out, pretending they aren’t friends.” She tipped her head up to watch a curious squirrel peer over the edge, tiny paws clinging to the stone ledge. Birds chirped overhead, the bravest swooping in to investigate the bizarre humans sitting in the hole in the ground. 

“I checked on Imani before coming,” he told her. “They’re making progress. Malik’s almost got an antidote finalized.” 

She blew out a breath. “Thank God. Imani’s been keeping the death magic at bay longer than should be possible.” 

He hummed in agreement. “She’s strong.” 

“Strongest druid I’ve ever met,” Darcy agreed. She leaned back on her hands, tilting her face to the sun as the steady flow of the ley lines washed over them both. 

They were silent for a moment, soothed by the peace within their little sanctuary, before Stiles asked, “Think Deaton could do it?” 

She considered their first teacher and his training when they were young, the things he’d taught them that they’d later discovered to be… less than accurate. “Nah,” she decided. “Too rigid.” 

“I thought so, too,” he said, satisfied. “He’d just say something deliberately vague about nature’s course and let them die.” 

Darcy twisted to drape her legs across Stiles’s lap and sprawled back onto the sun-warmed stone, hands folded across her stomach as she chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip. “You ever think about the stuff he taught us?” 

“About how a lot of it turned out to be untrue?” 

“Yeah.” 

Stiles blew out a breath. “Yeah. I can’t decide if he really didn’t know, or if…” 

“He tried to limit us on purpose,” she finished quietly. 

Stiles said, “Naomi didn’t like him,” as though it were a damning fact.

“Naomi thought he was an idiot.” Darcy grinned at the memory of the spark who’d showed them their true potential realizing exactly what their druid teacher had been filling their heads with. “She didn’t even have to meet him to know he was… what was it again?” 

“‘A pretentious, conceited moron with an overestimation of his own skills and understanding of magic,’” Stiles recited. Their laughter bounced off the stone walls. 

“He valued his rules more than our lives,” Stiles said once they’d quieted. 

She sat up, shocked that he would say such a thing. Stiles just held her legs steady when she wobbled and watched her with solemn eyes. “Deaton’s principles were… strict, yes, but he did what he could.” 

“Darce,” Stiles said, soft. “He let a teenager face a pack of near-feral Alpha werewolves, along with the pack he was sworn to protect. He wasn’t there the night the Hales were attacked, or when the Nogitsune showed up. He did _nothing_ when you were taken.” 

Which Stiles had not forgiven the druid for, she read on his face, a deeper grudge held than the one for his own abduction and possession. 

A little shaken by the sheer depth of his loyalty and love, Darcy gripped his hands in hers and held on tight. She felt as though some of the shine from her few happy childhood memories had been scraped away, revealing a raw, bleeding wound beneath. 

“Impartial is not the same as neutrality,” Stiles said, low. “Would you trust him with the lives of our family?” 

Darcy stared at their hands. “No.” It hurt to say so, to admit that the teacher she’d loved and held in such high regard could not be counted on. 

“I don’t like it anymore than you, do. And his disappearance worries me.” 

She lifted her eyes to stare at him. “You think someone is behind it? Pressured him into leaving?” 

“He knows a lot about us, Darcy. He hasn’t been inner circle for years, but he has been a pillar in Beacon Hills for a long time. He’s trusted with things that could come back to bite the Hale Pack, if they fall into the wrong hands.” 

“Most of us are in New York.” 

“A pack apart is always at risk, stable or not. And here, our attention is divided. I don’t like all these loose ends- Rowan, Vanessa Marianna, the hunters. Feels too much like a diversion.” 

“Stiles…” 

“Don’t,” he bit out. “Please don’t call me paranoid.” 

She rolled her eyes. “You’re not paranoid. I was going to ask what you wanted to do about it.” Darcy shook her head at his surprise, standing and pulling him up after her. She kept his hands in hers. “It’s you and me, Stiles. We have the power to keep our people standing. I don’t plan on letting anyone fall, even if it kills me.” 

He grinned, fierce and full of light, tipping his head towards hers. “We’re going to be the shield, Darcy. Guard the edges, and keep our people safe.” 

Standing in the heart of a convergence, the nemeton rumbling quietly beneath their feet at the promise in his voice, it felt like a vow. An oath, to protect and defend, to be the keepers of their kind, to shield them from harm. To lay down their lives if necessary, to swear to always answer the call when it came. 

“Until our dying day,” she swore, a solemn declaration that made the stones at their feet shift, burn hot. 

“Until our dying day,” Stiles agreed. He didn’t seem to notice the flash of gold, the way their magic crept up the sides of the nemeton like a rising sun. The way the convergence reverberated around them, a quiet hum that sounded to her ears like _YesYesYesYes._

~*~ 

Laura met them at the compound an hour later, waiting in the camaro with visible impatience. Her long black hair was in a thick braid, and she wore skintight jeans and a shredded t-shirt that Darcy was eighty percent certain had been the victim of the gorgon they’d tracked down a few months ago. The Alpha had apparently kept it as a trophy, suspicious stains and all. 

“Finally,” Laura said when they stumbled through the front doors, wired and a little punch-drunk from their time spent in the nemeton. Santiago eyed them from the passenger side as they tumbled into the backseat in a tangle of limbs. 

“Keep your giraffe legs on your own side of the car,” Darcy ordered, barely ducking in time to dodge a flailing elbow. Some things never changed. “That goes for the rest of you, too.” 

“More leg, more seat space,” Stiles insisted, sprawling out. She narrowed her eyes dangerously at him while Laura shot out of the lot and down the long driveway like a bat out of hell. 

Darcy kicked him in the shin and directed her question at the front seat over the sound of his cursing. “How’s your project going?” Laura growled. 

“That well, huh?” Stiles asked, rubbing his shin. 

Santiago twisted so he could look at them. “We’ve got the structure down,” he explained. “Three levels of the supernatural courts- international, national, and local, depending on the case. A lot of it will be similar to the tribunals now, when leaders across the country or globe converge for major decisions.” 

“Problem is,” Laura said, annoyance clear in her voice, “everyone is clamoring for a seat at the table. Which is no surprise, but there are roughly two hundred Alphas in the States alone. We can’t have that many involved in every case, or we’ll never get anywhere.” 

“Plus packs are expected to handle certain problems in house,” Darcy mused. “It’ll be hard to draw the line of when to involve other Alphas.” 

“Besides _that_ impossible question, we have the delightful job of identifying representatives of other species. Two years of work and all we’ve got to show for it is a fuckton of infighting.” Laura snarled at some poor fool who’d pulled out in front of her, tailgating him with inches to spare to presumably prove a point before blowing past the sedan. 

Stiles piped up. “Hey, I have a question. What the fuck are we listening to?”

“Don’t even start with me,” Laura warned, spitefully turning the dubstep track up louder. 

Darcy wrinkled her nose. “No, I agree, this is terrible.” 

Stiles reached out, aiming his magic at the radio controls. The car swerved violently. Santiago made a pained sound and closed his eyes. 

“I swear to god, I will send us all into oncoming traffic if you touch my music,” Laura snarled. 

They paused, considering. “Might be worth it,” Darcy muttered. Laura promptly took the next turn too fast and sent her bodily into the window with calculated precision. 

Somehow, miraculously, they made it back in one piece.

“Here’s the thing,” Laura said, throwing herself bodily onto the couch in her apartment. “We all know our secret has a shelf life. We’ve got to get ahead of it, which most Alphas across the globe agree with, thankfully. But before we do so, we have to have a structured justice and penal system. Our kind can’t get caught up in human courts. It’d be a nightmare on multiple levels.” 

“Establishing local courts might be the best first step,” Stiles suggested. 

“Way ahead of you,” Laura said. “Most of those are squared away for the ‘wolves, since we handle our internal problems quickly and violently.” 

“As for the Fae and magic users, though,” Santiago continued, brow furrowed as they contemplated a spreadsheet so complicated it was giving Darcy a headache, “They don’t want shifters involved in their affairs.” 

“But magic users don’t necessarily have a higher authority like shifters do. No Alpha to make them fall in line.” Laura stared pointedly at Darcy and Stiles. 

Darcy lifted her hands, helpless. “Laura, if they don’t want to listen to us, there’s not much we can do to make them. At least not without starting another civil war.” 

“Which is why I’m giving them the option to elect regional representatives,” Laura said. She leaned forward, arms braced on her knees. “With the understanding that you and Stiles will enforce the human non-violence clause of the agreement.” 

They shared a quick glance. “We can do that,” Stiles agreed. “We pretty much already do.” If witches moved against humans, she and Stiles tracked them down. Sometimes there was a reason, such as Cait and her friends. Sometimes the witches just liked killing, and found the humans to be easy prey. 

“What about druids?” Darcy asked. 

Laura’s mouth tightened. “I brought the proposal to Deaton and a few other druids six months ago. Any druid affiliated with a pack or nemeton went radio silent shortly after Deaton left. I’m being stonewalled.” 

“But…” Darcy looked between the three of them, baffled. “The druids don’t have a higher authority, either. Is this supposed to be some sort of protest against the court system?” 

“We don’t know,” Laura ground out, “because none of them will _talk to us.”_ Her frustration wasn’t aimed at them, she knew, but at the oddities of the druids’ behavior. 

Santiago crossed his arms. “We asked Imani and Malik, even talked to their dad. None of them or their druid contacts knew, either.” 

“Druids are a secretive bunch by nature, we all know that.” Stiles pointedly raised a brow at Darcy, and she recalled his words from earlier that day. “But this is new.” 

“So, between that, finding and training advocates for our courts, and overseeing fair elections of area representatives, we’re somewhat at a standstill.” 

“Is a local test run possible?” Darcy asked. “The hunters we stopped are being held at the compound.” 

Laura made a contemplative sound and glanced at Santiago. “That might be possible,” she said when Santiago nodded. “If they face a tribunal of judges rather than a trial. Get the charges sorted out first, then pull in affected representatives.” 

“They killed anything they could catch,” Darcy said with distaste. “Fae, shifters, witches.” 

“Fae are complicated,” Santiago said with a wince. “We’ve been in negotiations with Lydia and Jane, trying to figure out who’s responsible for the Fae in this realm.” 

“Half Fae and those born here are ours,” Laura said. “It’s when they start crossing between realms that things get tricky.” 

“Hold on, are you saying we need extradition treaties with the Seelie and Unseelie Courts?” Stiles asked in disbelief. 

Laura huffed a tired laugh. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. The politics of the supernatural world need to be ironed out between ourselves, and quickly. Negotiating with the humans…” She sighed, shaking her head. “I can’t see that going well unless we’re a totally unified front.” 

“As for our test run, selecting the tribunal of judges will be tricky.” Santiago nodded to Laura. “If the Hale Pack is overseeing these changes, we can’t be involved on every level. Our people have to step up, accept these roles themselves.” 

“So I can’t be a judge. Probably won’t be except for the serious shit on a national or international level.” Laura stood, paced a little. “The hunter can’t be Chris or Allison. Conflict of interest, and they were on the takedown team.

“We’re going to have to take a step back,” she continued. “Find impartial judges and let them decide the punishment.” 

“A local representative from each species,” Darcy mused. “Alphas only for the shifters.” The others nodded. “Witches… hm. Coven leaders?” 

Stiles cocked his head. “That could work,” he said slowly. “There’s usually one or two full covens in the major cities. Most of them are even reasonable.” 

“Put the druids on hold for now,” Darcy said. “They don’t want to play ball, they don’t get a say in our justice system. Imani’s dad might be a good resource, though. His powers are latent but he knows our world.” 

“What about the vamps?” Stiles asked. 

“Julian handles his stuff internally,” Laura reminded them. “Quick and brutal. I’m sure he can select a few delegates in the country when needed, though, and he’s familiar with the other vampire rulers in other countries.” 

“And that leaves the head of the hunter families.” Darcy frowned. “There are a few I can think of that would be a good choice. Allison will likely know more, but I think Maya would be the best source for that.” 

Stiles had that manic look he got when faced with a seemingly impossible problem. “We’ll handle the Fae-related issues on a case by case basis. Extradite when necessary, depending on the crime and where it was committed. Witches are a work in progress, but I think they’ll like the coven leader proposal.” 

“We’ve made a pool of potential judges for the Alphas,” Laura said, waving a hand at the spreadsheet. “Completely randomized, thanks to Danny, and they can be selected based on a dozen factors. Location, history, pack size, and so on.” 

“To clarify,” Santiago said, “The purpose of this court is to address severe crimes. Assault, rape, murder. It’s crucial that we keep a semblance of control when we come out, to ensure our kind don’t get any ideas about being more powerful than humans or considering them prey. Anything that would cause a large-scale retaliation.” 

“Basically, we’re trying to prevent a genocide,” Laura said, slumping into the couch. On whose part, she didn’t specify. 

“We _have_ to be able to show the human governments that we can effectively manage our own people,” Santi continued. “Or else they’ll start trying to arrest anyone who so much as breathes in a way they don’t like.” 

“Which they already do to anyone who isn’t white,” Laura added. “So we _definitely_ can’t trust them to handle a different species entirely. Not when they’re so prejudiced against themselves that they can’t even treat humans with a different skin color equally.” 

Laura scrubbed a hand over her face. “Ideally, we’d have sparks in place to oversee the ordeal. Keep the peace and ensure a fair trial, and so on.” 

“But there are still only two of us.” 

“But there are still only two of you.” Laura grimaced. “We need some measure of fairness. An impartial group.” 

“We’re working on it,” Stiles muttered. 

“We know,” Santiago said, gentle. 

“Do you really think the human governments will let us manage our own affairs?” Darcy asked worriedly. 

Laura met her gaze. “No,” she said grimly. “I don’t. And a lot of Alphas want to go old school- put down the offenders before the humans can catch them and then play dumb.” 

“Brutal,” Stiles said with a wince. 

“But effective.” Laura made a face. “We’d be condemning supernaturals to living under that kind of threat, which I’m not comfortable with. Plus, it’s a slippery slope to Alphas turning into dictators.” 

Santiago sat on the edge of the table. “There is no easy answer. We’re hoping if we come out of the gate aggressively pushing our own system, the humans will agree to work with us. We could allow limited involvement from them, if the case affects humans.” 

“I’ve been conferencing with Alphas and other supernatural leaders across the world,” Laura told them. “It’s not just up to us to create this system, and my pack is by no means in charge of running it. I just happen to be an expert on the American legal system and in a position to be an influence here.” 

“We will be responsible for upholding it, though. All packs will be, and the supernatural leaders the others look to.” Santiago smiled at them. “I’m afraid you two might be traveling the world often to oversee these courts.” 

“Assuming the humans don’t declare war,” Stiles muttered. “Sparks died fast and bloody the last time the supernatural world had a conflict. Who’s to say that won’t happen again?” 

“Me,” Laura said lowly, eyes burning Alpha red. “Anyone who comes after you two will face the full might of the Hale Pack. Got it?” 

“The Fae Queens would have something to say about it, too,” Santiago pointed out. “Ours isn’t the only world that has changed.” 

But the Ak’ma still roamed the earth, Darcy knew. Should someone find a way to control them, she feared history would repeat itself in the worst way. Time to bring those concerns to Jane, then.

~*~ 

The veil between worlds felt like an acid bath no matter how stable the Fae gate. 

Darcy scowled at the discomforting feeling, shuddering once she was free of the viscous drag of the gate over her skin. The Fae realm appeared poised on the edge of dusk, soft white fog skimming the ground and seeping through the trees. Tiny lights flickered within the lush forest, and she could hear faint noises from within, trills and rumbles and animal calls like a distant song. 

Laura had left to track down Matt Murdock, aka Daredevil, and make sure one of Vanessa’s vampires hadn’t gotten lucky and gutted him yet. He’d continued his one man crusade against Wilson Fisk and, for the most part, they’d let him. The pack knew Vanessa was the real threat, and the less attention Murdock paid her, the longer his life. 

Darcy had left the others to find Jane, tired of missing her friend at every turn. It’d been some time since she’d visited the Unseelie Court, anyway. 

She walked the familiar path to the palace, this part of the realm seeming to have mostly settled, and enjoyed the view. Color bled from the sky in hues of red and orange and yellow, contrasting with the smooth dark bark of the mammoth tree trunks stretching skyward. 

Specks of amber leaves glowed against black bark, burning a muted red in older parts of the forest and canary yellow on the younger saplings in a patchwork of color against the ebony backsplash of the tree trunks. 

The suspicious stream from her last visit had swallowed more land, evolving into a wide, shallow river with smooth, rounded stones scattered in haphazard heaps. The river devoured the fading sun’s final moments of glory so that the water itself looked like it burned beneath the surface, sunlight blazing through the peaceful waters and setting it alight. 

She found Valkyrie at the palace entrance with Sif, returning from a patrol based on their appearance. 

“Lady Darcy,” Sif said, pleased. “I have missed your companionship. You are well?” 

“As well as can be expected,” Darcy said, returning the warrior’s bracing grip on her arm. “How are you? And Asgard?” 

“The same as yourself, I suspect.” Sif smiled wryly. “The loss of a world is not taken lightly, no matter how many of its people survived. But this world has accepted us, and its people are generous and kind. Asgard will survive.” 

“And thrive, no doubt,” Valkyrie said. Darcy wished for an ounce of her confidence. 

“I must go. I promised the water nymphs I would bring Lady Frigga their gift to her.” Sif gestured to the sack belted to her waist. 

“Stillwater stones,” Valkyrie explained. “The nymphs said that those with magic could hear the song of seasons captured by the stones.” 

“They preserve time,” Darcy said, familiar with the phenomenon. “The stones absorb the vibrations of the land when it changes. If you know how to listen, you can hear everything they’ve preserved. It’s a good gift- the stones at the bottom of a water source hear the most.” 

Sif cocked her head, interested. “Hm. I have some magic as well. Only a sliver compared to most, but I wonder…” She wandered towards the residences, contemplating the small bag. 

Valkyrie eyed Darcy. “You’re looking for Jane.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes. She’s been avoiding me. I’m worried about her.” Darcy scowled when Valkyrie squinted at her. “Whatever it is, I want to know. Jane’s been having trouble with the transition between worlds.”

“Yes. A queen does not forget her crown. Returning to a world in which she is not queen is a difficult adjustment,” Valkyrie said, turning towards the lower levels. “But that isn’t why she’s been avoiding you.” 

“You know?” Darcy asked, wary as she followed the legendary warrior into the depths of the palace. They were taking a path she’d never seen before, one lined in black ash. It made Darcy’s gut clench, remembering the Fae realm before Jane and Lydia had taken over. 

“I told her she should tell you,” Valkyrie said on a sigh. “But she was afraid of how you’d take it.” 

Now thoroughly convinced this was going to be an unpleasant trip for her, Darcy bit her lip and trotted after the long-legged Asgardian. They were well beyond the walls of the palace by the time Valkyrie slowed, and twilight had settled comfortably across the realm, leaving them to find their way using the radiance of the stars overhead. 

Darcy slowed when grass turned to dust under her feet. The world was stark here, unoccupied but for blue-black trees with barren branches. The starlight felt colder, suddenly, bleak and intense as it cast shadows that felt like a void. 

Her heart was racing, Darcy realized absently. She gripped the knife at her belt as eyes watched her from the darkness, pricking along the back of her neck. Her gut wrenched as understanding dawned. 

An Ak’ma tracked them through the desolate forest. 

“Easy,” Valkyrie murmured. 

Before Darcy could reply, the forest thinned and abruptly they were standing in a clearing. Dust and snow blanketed the ground, disturbed by the long claws of the demons that stalked the opposite tree line. She swallowed hard, heart pounding like a war drum in her ears, and felt a shiver of dread wrack her body. 

“Darcy.” Jane was visibly shocked to see her, eyes wide and face draining of color at her arrival. Thor was at her side, and he winced at whatever he saw on Darcy’s face.

Darcy looked past the Fae Queen to the Ak’ma. A pack, she realized, watching the way they slipped past and against each other, fangs snapping in warning when one ventured too close. 

Dozens of pale eyes watched her, as though unable to tear their eyes away from the spark who’d stumbled willingly into their den. Her own eyes had to adjust to the darkness that seemed to swallow their forms, hide them so completely from sight to ensure a victorious hunt. 

Every last demon wore a saddle. 

And then, with horrifying, aching slowness, Fae stepped past their demonic mounts, looking to their queen for instruction. 

Outfitted in riding leathers, they touched the demons without hesitation, familiar in their motions as they soothed the monsters drooling for her blood. These Fae were short and had sharp, fierce features, with delicate, pointed ears and skin colors ranging from ink to crimson to ivory. They wore slender, lovely weapons with careful designs etched into the wood or steel. Not one of them made a sound as they moved, and their focus was so intense it sucked the air out of the forest. 

“What…” Darcy tore her eyes away from the Fae- the riders, the fucking _Demon Riders-_ and looked to Jane in horror. “Jane, what is this?” 

“This looks bad, Darcy, I know it does,” Jane said, urgent. “But I need you to listen.” When Darcy only stared at her, speechless, she took a shaky breath and continued. “You know how the Ak’ma were made. The Unseelie Queen twisted them to hunt sparks. But- Darcy, she didn’t just make them out of nothing. They’re Old Blood, some of the oldest creatures in existence within my realm.” 

Darcy’s voice sounded like it was dragged over gravel when she spoke. “What are you saying?” 

“The Ak’ma weren’t always demons. Darcy, they were the Hounds of the Hunt before the Unseelie Queen ruined them. They weren’t bred to hunt sparks, they were _corrupted.”_ Jane moved towards her, emphatic. “They’re a part of the Wild Hunt. It’s why they don’t stop. They’re forever called to it- they _can’t_ stop.” 

Darcy cast her gaze over the Fae watching in silence. “And them? Are they part of the Wild Hunt?”

“They will be.” Jane took a breath, pressed her shaking hands to her stomach as she watched Darcy. “I’m reshaping the Wild Hunt. Instead of hunting sparks, they’ll track the dissenters.” 

“The dissenters?” Darcy asked, incredulous. She gestured to the forest, and tried not to cringe when a pacing Ak’ma snarled in response. “You’re going to set these monsters loose in your realm? Are you insane? Do you have any idea the kind of havoc they’ll wreak?” 

“That’s what the riders are for.” Jane took another bracing breath, as though this confrontation had her on the verge of panicking. Thor and Valkyrie stood aside and tried to pretend they weren’t there, which was hard to accomplish considering they were both over six feet tall and built like a brick shithouse. 

“To what, control these things? They’re _demons,_ Jane.” 

“Through no fault of their own! They didn’t ask to become this. The Unseelie Queen made them monsters, Darcy, but that doesn’t mean they have to stay that way forever.” 

Darcy pressed a shaking hand over her eyes. “You’ve created these… Demon Riders, made them fucking _grim reapers_ in a realm with thousands of refugees and millions of vulnerable citizens.”

“Do not,” Jane snapped, “accuse me of not considering my people.”

“Can they cross?” Darcy demanded. Jane fell silent. “Can they cross a Fae gate, Jane?” 

“Yes,” Jane admitted. 

“So if they happened to go rogue, decide they’d rather return to hunting sparks down on Earth, you can’t stop them. You had them _contained,_ why would you...” Darcy wanted to scream, to shake her. Her friend, her sister, taking these monsters that haunted Darcy’s every waking moment and giving them freedom to hunt. It felt like betrayal. 

“The Riders keep the magic of the Wild Hunt,” Jane said quietly. “They keep the focus where I say.” 

“Yeah? What happens when the Ak’ma get sick of taking orders and _eat_ them?” Darcy tried and failed to keep her voice even. The clearing was still and quiet, a crowd of alien Fae and demons observing with rapt attention. “Jane, I have spent _years_ trying to find other sparks on Earth, which is an impossible challenge because these bastards _killed them all!”_

“Not anymore!” Jane shouted back. “They Hunt those who endanger the defenseless. I’m trying to _fix_ this, Darcy! And I can’t- won’t- just kill them all. They didn’t deserve this anymore than the sparks did.” 

“They have hunted me and mine every single day of my life,” Darcy said through a blur of tears. “They are the reason Stiles and I are _alone.”_ She had to pause when her voice cracked. 

Jane watched her back with tears in her own eyes, mouth trembling. “I’m sorry,” she said. "I'm sorry, but I had to do something." 

Something in Darcy’s chest cracked open, a hurt she’d never thought would find her again. “I can’t be here right now.” She stepped away, towards the shadow creeping over her boots. 

“Darcy-” Jane tried, reaching for her, but Darcy let the dark swallow her whole, carry her far away from the demons and their Queen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the Hounds of the Hunt "twist" planned since the beginning & then got on my own nerves because it took 40k to get to it lol
> 
> [Six Sentence Sunday](https://i-like-plan-m.tumblr.com/post/616412096444481536/six-sentence-sunday)


	15. Naomi: Accusations & Allies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another extra update! 
> 
> I also spent a truly stupid amount of time working on a new/better map, which I added at the end of this chapter and that will replace the one in the first chapter (if it cooperates). 
> 
> God bless Inkarnate and their HD image exports. If I did it right, you should be able to zoom in for the little details!

**15: ACCUSATIONS & ALLIES**

_**Naomi** _

Naomi helped Vahid as he gingerly pulled a clean shirt over his head with a wince when the scattered wounds on his skin protested at the movement. Drops of water slid from his hair and down his neck, leaving his skin damp. They both smelled of the floral soaps from the bath, something soft and soothing.

She pressed a hand to his face and touched their foreheads together, took a moment to just breathe him in. 

“I’m okay,” he murmured. “We’re okay.” 

“You almost weren’t. What if they’d taken you instead? Or killed you? God, Vahid, I don’t think I could take that. Not losing you.” She felt sick at the thought, every molecule inside her violently rejecting the idea.

A knock at their door sounded. They ignored it, aware of Sonia abandoning her task in the other room to answer. There was a low murmur of voices at the door, which they dismissed until Sonia’s voice rose suddenly. 

_“_ They did _what?!”_

Naomi and Vahid looked at each other with alarm and quickly finished dressing, Naomi snatching up her leather boots on the way out of the bedroom. Kaveh stood at their door, dressed in scaled, form-fitting armor and looking at them with a solemn expression.

Sonia pinched the bridge of her nose and seemed to be struggling to rein in her temper, so they looked to Kaveh for an explanation. “The advisory council has arrested High Mage Ziadie for suspicion of involvement in the attack.” 

“What? With what evidence?” Naomi asked faintly. Vahid looked as stunned as she felt. “And how does he have the power to do such a thing?”

Kaveh sighed. “He found a loophole in the laws. Faraco managed enough votes from the advisory council to arrest Ziadie. It’s technically above board, since it involves a threat to the Prime _and_ the Prime himself is now absent, but going around Soraya was a very stupid move. She’s in line for the throne if…” _If Darius doesn’t return,_ he couldn’t seem to speak aloud. “He cited Ziadie’s absence from the council meeting during the attack as the evidence for the arrest.” 

Which could hardly be considered _evidence._ “Where was he?” 

“The Ruling Council for Mages headquarters, according to Ziadie. He claims that he was buried in the rubble, but a few council members consider the story insufficient proof.” Kaveh’s mouth twisted. “Supposedly there were blue-robed Mages on the destroyer that wrecked the palace. So the council is _also_ calling his leadership into question.” 

Naomi thought that hysteria was to be expected after an attack such as this, but something about the accusation didn’t sit right with her. This answer was too easy, too neat. Besides, High Mage Ziadie’s entire problem with her was his suspicion that _she_ was the one up to something like this. 

“Anyway, I have to go before Esteri murders Faraco and gets thrown in jail, too.” 

“Esteri?” Vahid asked, baffled. 

Kaveh shifted awkwardly on his feet. “Yeah, she’s, uh… apparently involved with him? I don’t know the details, I just found out too, but she’s one wrong word away from starting a civil war between the royals and nobles, so I’ve really gotta…” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder. 

“Wait,” Naomi blurted, not even realizing she’d spoken, let alone made this decision, until Vahid and Sonia startled in surprise. “I want to talk to him.” 

Kaveh lurched to a stop. “Ziadie?” Then he frowned. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.” 

“What is there to lose?” 

“Your head, if Esteri thinks you’re going to hurt him.” 

“I’m not. I won’t. I just… something doesn’t sit right about this. Maybe he’ll answer a few questions for me.” 

He sighed. “Fine, but I’m not getting in between you and Esteri if it comes to that. She fights mean.” 

“What a gentleman,” Sonia said, her lips pursed in annoyance. 

“I believe I should rest,” Vahid interjected before Kaveh could argue his point. “Especially if we will be leaving soon.” 

“Okay. I’ll be back soon.” She kissed him quickly in goodbye, caught Sayali’s eye and pointed back to him. _“Niasoc,_ Sayali. Guard him.” Naomi caught Vahid’s exasperated huff and Sonia’s expression of approval as she shut the door and trotted after Kaveh. 

“Esteri and Ziadie?” She asked quietly. 

Kaveh’s long strides ate the distance between her rooms and the lower levels of the palace, passing injured servants and dragons alike- all of whom stared at her with wide eyes. She guessed her little display in the streets had done wonders for her reputation.

He blew out a long breath. “None of us knew either, at least until she threatened to kill anyone who touched him. The council wants to hold a trial for him immediately.” 

“Fuck.” 

“Fuck,” he agreed, catching her arm to gently pull her to a halt and then through a low doorway. It was cold down here, the scuffed stone walls providing little comfort. 

Shouting echoed off the stone as they jogged down a long, spiraling staircase lined with lit torches that cast angry shadows along the curved walls. 

“Guild Mages were a part of that attack! We all saw them!” Consul Faraco’s voice rose above the rest, until a snarl of rage cut him off. 

“Just because they wore the robes doesn’t mean they were acting on the Mages’ orders, you blithering idiot! If you’d stop for one second to think past your damned prejudices, you’d realize that this doesn’t make _sense!_ ” Esteri’s fury could rival Soraya on her worst day, and it gave Naomi pause at the foot of the steps. 

The crowd around Ziadie’s cell was relatively small- Esteri, Faraco, and most of the council members not too injured to manage the trip, but still a suffocating number in the small space. Kaveh’s broad shoulders were not a welcome addition to the confined area. 

Even as she thought it, Esteri noticed their arrival. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Naomi and, despite his previous statement, Kaveh angled himself in front of her. “Take it easy, Esteri. She’s just here to talk to him.” 

Light footsteps sounded behind them as Idri and Soraya joined the group, Soraya’s jaw clenched tight with anger as they descended the stairs. 

“I understand the advisory council is demanding a trial,” Idri said neutrally. Naomi wondered why the council hadn’t also tried to throw Idri under the bus- she’d been absent from the meeting as well, after all. Though maybe there were rules about arresting your superiors. She should probably look into that in case they did try- Soraya wouldn’t hesitate to kill them for the same slight against Idri. 

“We need answers,” Faraco blustered. “I find it highly suspicious that he missed _today_ of all days. The High Mage should have been present with the rest of us at the meeting- two of the other Mages on the council, his own people, are dead from the attack.” 

“Which he knows better than anyone,” Esteri said icily. 

“I suppose I must remind you, Consul,” Idri said, “that the Prime is required to oversee any trials in Nova Solis. You are within your rights to arrest him, perhaps-” she held up a hand at Esteri’s outraged noise and continued- “but cannot demand the time or place of the trial without the Prime’s approval.” 

“Prime Darius is not here,” Faraco said, mostly concealing his triumph. “This is a state of emergency, High Sage. That changes things.” But not _that_ much, even Naomi knew. A state of emergency would give the council more power, but at the end of the day the Prime- stand-in or not- made the final call. 

“True. Prime Darius is not here. However, until proven otherwise, we must assume he still lives. In which case, as the law states, General Soraya will be acting Prime until his return.” And if Soraya’s final call was to wait for Darius’s return- therefore buying Ziadie more time- then there wasn’t a damn thing the council could do about it. 

That took the wind out of Faraco’s sails. He glanced around as though looking for support from the crowd that was now rethinking their choices, and then scrounged up the courage to appeal to Soraya. “General Soraya, we request an immediate trial for High Mage Ziadie regarding his role in the attack.” 

Soraya didn’t even pretend to consider his request. “No,” she said flatly. “Get out.” 

He drew himself upright, righteously indignant. “You can’t release him-” 

“You will find, Consul Faraco,” Soraya said dangerously as she stalked down the rest of the stairs, her patience visibly evaporating, “that I can do any number of things. Including arrest _you_ for the same suspicions surrounding the High Mage. I find it interesting that you are so quick to lay the blame at the feet of the Mages. Not surprising, I suppose, after your years of campaigning against their presence on advisory councils.” 

The color drained from Faraco’s face. Esteri grinned with all her teeth, a fierce light in her eyes as her sister verbally eviscerated the Consul. 

Soraya continued, her voice soft and silky in a way that made Naomi’s hands want to shake. “And while my High Sage has reminded me that I cannot release him quite yet, not until Darius’s return and Ziadie’s subsequent trial, I _can_ imprison suspected conspirators- including dragon nobility thought to be involved with a threat to the royal line.” She stepped closer. _“Are_ you a threat to the royal line, Consul? Do you have a hidden desire to sit on the throne? To become the Prime?” 

Faraco swallowed hard, stumbling back from the woman advancing upon him with lethal intent. 

“The Prime- my _brother-_ has been _taken,_ and you waste our time with unfounded accusations? Tread softly,” she warned, “because the moment I lose faith in your ability and willingness to serve the Prime, I will banish you and every one of your kin from Nova Solis for an eternity.” 

“You can’t-” 

“I can,” she promised. “And I will. Now, I will tell you only once more- _get out.”_

They scrambled for the stairs with all the dignity they could manage, Idri politely moving out of the way. And then they were left standing in pressing silence until Esteri made a strangled noise and threw her arms around Soraya. 

Soraya tolerated it because she was a thousand years old and had long ago learned to pick her battles. She just patted Esteri on the back and waited for it to be over. 

“Holy shit, Sor,” Kaveh said with a weak laugh. “That’s gonna come back to bite us in the ass.” 

“Maybe,” Idri said. He twisted to catch her hand and help her down the remaining steps- out of politeness or fondness, Naomi assumed, because the High Sage did not need help, blind or not- “But either way, they’ll think twice about crossing her. And we need that reassurance right now.” 

“I hope you’re right,” he said, then gestured to Naomi. “She wanted to talk to him.” 

Soraya nodded and towed Esteri away before she could protest. “Fine. Make it quick, and let us know when you’re finished. He’ll need a guard on the door at all times. Someone you trust, Kaveh.” 

“Done,” he answered, and led them up the stairs, leaving Naomi standing alone in the flickering light. 

“Come to gloat?” 

Well, not alone. 

High Mage Ziadie looked as though he’d been run over by a herd of Lankau. He was bruised and bloodied, his clothes in tatters and streaked with ash and dust, seated against the far wall of the cell with his legs stretched out in front of him.

He looked, she thought with a sudden pang of sympathy, very young and very alone.

“You look terrible,” she said, sitting cross legged against the wall opposite his. The cell bars between them were made of dragonglass, she noted with interest, made to hold a dragon shifter rather than a Mage. But the cuffs on his wrists told her that he would be unable to access his magic for an escape. 

He snorted tiredly, using his shoulder to half-heartedly brush aside a trickle of blood down his cheek. It smeared across his face instead. 

“I think I understand your obsession with me now,” she said thoughtfully. 

“It wasn’t an _obsession,”_ he said indignantly, but she ignored him. 

“If you’ve been secretly romancing the dragon princess this whole time and her father had just been murdered, her brother attacked, and the previous High Mage tortured to death, I suppose I understand your frankly aggressive overtures towards any perceived threats to her safety.” 

He closed his eyes. “It’s been a long couple years.” A wry smile touched his face. “And then a strange, incredibly powerful magic user showed up with a dragon well loved and welcomed without question by the royals. I thought if anyone had the chance to finish the job, it had to be you.” 

“But why? Why assume I had harmful intentions?” 

Ziadie opened his eyes. Sighed. “Natoya’s consort died only a few days after she did.” 

Naomi sucked in a breath at the non-sequitur. She hadn’t heard a word about a consort.

“They were a Seer,” he said, head tipped back against the wall. “And they told me something before they also died- _also_ found tortured to death, by the way. But no one else knows that particular detail. Just me, and now you.” 

She leaned in. “What did they say?” 

“Whoever killed Natoya wanted information,” he explained. “Information that she had. Whether she gave anything up or not is anyone’s guess, but I suspect not considering her lover died next.” 

“You don’t know what information they wanted?”

“I know that her consort believed Natoya kept me in the dark to protect me from the same fate.” 

“Do you believe that?” Naomi asked, noticing the vague shrug that accompanied his words. The manacles around his wrists jangled with the motion, drawing his attention for a long moment.

“I think Natoya was smart, that she knew what was coming for her. Maybe not who, but after Sargon died she had to consider it a possibility.” He shrugged again. “Maybe she didn’t trust anyone else with the information. Or maybe she just didn’t trust anyone else not to give it up under considerable torture.” 

“Whatever it was must have been important, then.” She wondered if it had something to do with the city’s magic and Natoya’s role in maintaining it. Regardless, it was clearer now than ever that Ziadie was a scapegoat for whoever was behind this plot. 

“Yeah.” He considered her for a long minute before reluctantly admitting, “Natoya’s consort told me one other thing before they died. They said, ‘when the city is on the brink of destruction, look to the firebird for answers.’” 

Naomi sucked in a breath. Felt the phoenix tattoo rustle against her skin with a spike of alarm. _When the city is on the brink of destruction, look to the firebird for answers._ Oh, how she wished this Seer still lived. She had so many questions.

“We don’t have firebirds anywhere but in stories here. But then I saw your tattoo through your dress at the celebration of Vahid’s return.” Ziadie sighed. “I thought the consort was implying that you were responsible, but I’m starting to think they meant the opposite.” He lifted his bound wrists with a wry smile. “Too late, it seems.” 

“Can the royals get you out?” _Without causing a civil war,_ she said with her raised brow. Esteri could and would, based on her ceaseless fury from earlier. 

“Not before a week. That’s the minimum sentence if the council arrests you on suspicion of colluding against the Prime- time used to build a case and the accused a defense- but there are a thousand little ways to extend my imprisonment. They’ll use them all, if they can.” 

Naomi frowned, taking in the cold stone floors and heavy draft that ran through the cells in this lower level, the lack of a cot or water. “You’ll be kept here?” 

He nodded. “It’s the only place built to hold a non-human for extended periods of time. They’ll have someone bring food and water by at some point. Kaveh and Soraya will ensure a guard is posted, too, I guess.” 

But Naomi was recalling Sonia’s words from not so long ago about shifting loyalties and corruption within the city. A guard or two wouldn’t be enough, and these people had already proven that they weren’t afraid to go after a member of the royal family, which meant Esteri wouldn’t be safe protecting him, either. 

She stood, brushing dust and dirt off her pants as she stared thoughtfully at the obsidian stone anchoring the top of the dragonglass bars. Ziadie watched with growing confusion as she dragged over a nearby stool and climbed on top of it just outside his cell, drawing a small blade from her thigh sheath. 

“What are you doing?” He asked over the quiet scratching sounds that filled the room. She ignored him, carving the small rune with utmost focus and attention to detail- one mistake could cost this man his life. 

Finally, she stepped off the stool and sheathed the knife with a satisfied air. “There.” She nodded to where the engraved rune rested in the uppermost corner, barely visible to anyone not actively searching for it. 

It would vanish entirely once she activated it in order to prevent discovery- one couldn’t be too careful, especially if other magic users were in on the conspiracy. 

She gestured to the cell. “No one with harmful intentions towards you can pass this threshold.” 

He gawked at her, face as open and unguarded as she’d ever seen it. “You would… Why would you do such a thing for me?” 

“Because now I believe that you aren’t involved in this threat against the royals,” she said honestly. “And even if you are, keeping you alive until I get back won’t change anything, not if you’re locked in here. Besides,” she gave a flippant wave of her hand, “it took me, like, two minutes to create.” 

“No one can enter if they want to harm me? Truly?” She heard some of the terrible fear he must have felt in his voice, the first sign he’d let slip, and softened towards him further.

“Yes. No one can hurt you while you're here. All I have to do is tie this rune to a power source to keep it active. I would anchor it myself, but I’ll be too far away from the city to maintain it.” She frowned at his chains. “And your magic is locked away, isn’t it?” He nodded. 

“Tie it to me.” Esteri stood in the stairwell, eyes wide and brimming with hope. She spoke over Ziadie’s immediate protests. “Tie the rune to me.” 

“Are you sure?” Naomi asked. “You’ll be confined to this area, too, or at least this wing of the palace. Any further and the rune will weaken.” 

“I wasn’t going to leave him, anyway. Now at least I’ll have a better reason that I can bring to Soraya when she tries to _make_ me leave.” 

“If I link you to this, then the rune will work for you as well. If someone comes after you, get into the cell with him. No one with harmful intentions can follow.” 

“She’ll be weakened if she comes in here,” Ziadie argued. “There’s dragonglass everywhere for exactly that purpose.” 

Naomi considered the rune again and shrugged. “Even a human could maintain this rune. But that’s her choice, not yours.” 

Esteri lifted her chin. “Do it.” 

She saw Ziadie’s scowl shift to panic. “Relax, Ziadie. I’m not an amateur.” She pointed to the rune. “There’s a failsafe built into it. If it’s overloaded or otherwise risking her life, the ties will break.” She glanced back at the stairs, wondering if Captain Linnea’s response had come back or if Vahid was still hurting, and decided it was time to wrap things up. 

Esteri gasped when Naomi linked the rune to her, watching in awe as the rune glowed brightly in the room before blinking out again. Naomi could still see it, but she knew no one else would be able to. 

Satisfied, she cast an eye over Esteri in assessment. The dragon pressed a hand to her chest and stared at Naomi. “I can feel it.” 

She smiled. “You’ll be able to feel if someone tries to break into the cell- the magic will drain on your own power in order to maintain the protection. If it gets to be too much, the ties will break before it kills you. Though I’m not sure what would be strong enough to get through you.” 

“Thank you, Naomi.” Esteri hugged her so tightly her ribs creaked, then danced away with shining eyes. 

“I’m glad to be of assistance,” she said. “Ziadie has been very helpful.” And he certainly didn’t deserve to die in this miserable cell. “But I would advise against sharing this information with anyone.” 

“Oh, no one but my siblings and Idri will know. I’m personally interested to see if anyone tries to break in.” The gleam in her eye promised great violence for anyone who dared try. 

“Good luck. I hope to return soon, with your brother safely with us.” 

Esteri’s shoulders sagged. “You need luck more than us. Be careful, Naomi. Human politics get tricky the further from Nova Solis you travel, and the pirates are an entity to be reckoned with. Some of them would like nothing more than to see us all dead.” 

~*~ 

Naomi considered Esteri’s ominous warning as Vahid flew her, Sonia, and Sayali out of Nova Solis later that day. 

Linnea’s response had finally come, brief and to the point. She would meet Vahid before allowing either of them on her ship, and she would be paid a large sum of money for the trip whether they were successful or not. Those were her terms, take them or leave them. 

Soraya waved off the demand for payment, unconcerned with money with her brother’s life on the line. The royals would pay the Captain a fair amount for the job, with a promised bonus so large it made Naomi’s head swim should they succeed. 

She carried Soraya’s written agreement to the lady Captain’s terms in the pocket sewn along the inside her shirt, a rolled parchment bearing the royal seal and Soraya’s signature. 

Sonia had insisted she come along. “For mediation purposes, should it be necessary. Linnea is wary of dragons, as is any pirate worth their salt, but she also has a… delicate crew member to consider.” 

“That’s why she wants to meet Vahid first?” 

“Yes, in case her first mate is unable to manage sharing a confined space with a dragon. Be very careful around them, Vahid.” 

There was a story there, Naomi knew, but not one they had time to delve into. Not to mention that this person’s trauma was hardly their business. 

A small ground party met them just outside the Iroka Wilds bordering Nakano territory. Naomi was relieved to see Ailani waiting for them, spear in hand and powerful body braced against the gusts from Vahid’s wings. 

Kailua was not accessible by flight and, according to Sonia, neither was the small port where Captain Linnea waited. So the Nakano would escort them through the forest and city, per Chief Kanoa’s orders. Sonia’s message, evidently, had included Darius’s kidnapping for his and Linnea’s eyes only. 

Vahid landed carefully in the small clearing, releasing Sayali from his front claws before dropping his body low to the ground so Sonia could dismount. 

Ailani bowed her head politely to Sonia in greeting, exchanging rapid-fire Nakano words as Naomi tossed the bags off and leaped to the ground. Vahid shifted once she was clear, the lines around his eyes and mouth strained. 

Naomi swatted a hand beside her ear to shoo away a buzzing insect and went to him. “I’m okay,” he assured her quietly, but his careful breaths and movements said otherwise. Even Sayali noticed, leaning against him in support and looking away as though pretending their proximity was a mere coincidence. 

It made Naomi feel better about stepping away from him to collect their things. Ailani joined her, lifting the heaviest bags without any visible effort and raising her brows in question when Naomi swatted absently at the air again. 

“I didn’t miss the damned bugs down here,” she muttered. Ailani frowned at her and glanced briefly around the quiet, bug free clearing. 

“There are no bugs here,” she said slowly. “Are you feeling well?”

Naomi paused. Lowered her hand from where it was raised again to bat away a non-existent insect. “Right. I guess I just… Never mind, it doesn’t matter.” Ailani seemed uncertain but turned away when Sonia called out a question from the tree line. 

But Naomi stopped to frown distractedly at the ground… and finally figured out what had been bothering her- today, the day they’d left, and the very first day they’d arrived. 

“There’s a ley line here,” she breathed, mostly to herself. But Vahid and Ailani turned back, the rest of the group hesitating as she crouched to inspect the earth as though she could see beneath the ground. 

Naomi buried her hand in the soft dirt, fingers pressing deep in the damp soil. She let her magic seep out, testing, in a spiderweb of light across the ground. There were sounds of alarm from the others, gasps and noises of surprise as they backed away. 

But Naomi’s only care at the moment were the ley lines buried so deep beneath the surface they would only be found by complete accident. Anyone but a spark probably wouldn’t even know that this existed.

Anyone but her. 

She had been hearing faint, murky feedback from the ley lines, only a weak vibration of the true power down below. She felt a sense of sharp relief as her magic found the ley line, as though she’d been missing a limb, a connection to the earth that she’d always had back in their realm.

Because, on the ground and so deep into the heart of this strange, alien world, _magic_ pulsed beneath her feet. 

It was ancient. Ageless. The heart of a planet beating below their feet. This magic was formless, omniscient, neither good nor evil, too far removed from the concept of time to consider the petty concerns of humanity. 

The depth of it was staggering. 

She realized that tears were streaming down her face, her breaths coming in shallow gasps as the magic stirred lazily, intrigued by the touch of her spark. 

She felt Vahid’s hand on her shoulder and used it as a focus point to rip herself away. “Naomi?” He asked, urgent. “What is it? What’s wrong?” 

“It’s not a ley line, it’s a _convergence,”_ she said, dazed, staring at the clear handprint she’d left in the dirt. “I’ve never felt anything like it before.” 

“Are you hurt?” 

She took a moment to seriously consider the question, nerves scraped raw from the fathomless depths of the magic slowly subsiding again, returning to its state of endless apathy. 

“I don’t think so.” She stood, knees wobbling, and heard the quiet buzzing in her ears again. Feedback, the distant heartbeat of a sleeping giant. It made her hands shake. “Let’s get out of here.” 

She saw the others cast nervous glances at her, unsure of what they’d witnessed and unnerved by her unusual reaction. 

It took the entire trek through the wilds and past the city until she felt settled enough to release Vahid’s hand. Some distant part of her mind compared her current state to a list of shock symptoms. It wasn’t reassuring. 

But she set it aside when they finally reached the port, a rocky outcropping that met a wide river curving gently along the outer edges of the caverns behind Kailua. 

The small ship that had retrieved Ajay waited for them, tied to the thick anchoring post as waves lapped against the sleek wood of the boat. It rocked gently in place as people darted around the deck in preparation. 

Captain Linnea spotted them, planted one hand on the ship’s rail and vaulted across the short distance between the ship and the dock. A crew member threw up their hands in exasperation behind her, reeling out the perfectly functional ramp to the dock as Linnea approached the group. 

She wore the same pants that the Nakano warriors did, a sleek dark fabric that water slicked right off of. Her boots were knee-length and made from thick, treated leather with numerous straps and buckles that Naomi suspected also hid a number of knives. 

Linnea crossed her arms and studied their group, her loose white shirt left unbuttoned halfway down her chest and revealing flashes of freckled skin and black ink. She wore a low-hanging belt with a sword on one hip, the pommel made of a rare slate-grey metal with dark flecks within and shaped like a giant octopus. The tentacles wrapped down and around, a handhold cleverly positioned within the beautifully designed pommel. It was a menacing sight at her hip, especially when paired with the double-sided dagger at the small of her back. 

Ailani nodded sharply at the captain and then told Naomi and Vahid, “We part ways here. Should things fall through-” she glanced briefly at Linnea- “find me in Kailua before you leave.” With that, the Nakano party vanished back into the maze of caverns. 

Sonia stared at the ship where the crew darted around like little birds, flinging themselves off the upper riggings without abandon. “So few,” she said, sounding surprised. “Where are the rest?” 

Linnea’s lips pressed tightly together. “A few stayed behind. The rest…” She flicked her gaze to Naomi and Vahid and abruptly changed what she’d been about to say. “Gone. They found a better opportunity.” 

Sonia was frowning deeply. “This is not good.” 

The Captain just offered a fluid shrug and dismissed the Weaver’s concern. “I can make it work. Lady Spark, I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.” 

“Neither did I,” Naomi said, pulling out the parchment and passing it to her. “From the General.” 

Linnea unrolled it, scanned the carefully worded agreement, and then shoved it into her waistband. “I’m surprised she agreed to my price. They must be desperate.” 

“An unknown enemy kidnapped their brother and Prime,” Vahid said quietly. “They are afraid for him.” 

She studied him without answering, then cocked her head back towards the ship. “Come aboard, and do it slowly. I’d advise against any sudden moves- my first mate is rather jumpy around dragons, which is occasionally an issue for Wind Mages. Though I guess you don’t have much to worry about if you get tossed overboard when we’re in the air.” 

“Oh, I do,” he said, reaching pointedly for Naomi’s hand. “The Arcos, is she welcome as well?” 

“As long as she doesn’t try to eat anyone. Better than a Vasu, at least. We’d all end up mincemeat with one of those on board.” She gestured for them to follow her, pausing briefly when Sonia cleared her throat. Linnea waited, eyes suddenly guarded, as Sonia’s eyes drifted pointedly to the sword on her hip. 

“Don’t think I didn’t see the ship that took the Prime,” she said sternly. “And I know what it means. Keep a cool head, Linnea Segal, and don’t be lured into more games that you’ll only lose. That goes for you two as well.” With those parting words, she spun on her heel and walked confidently into the dark caverns. 

“Thank you, Sonia. Right for the throat, as usual,” Linnea said with a wince. Then she shook it off and motioned impatiently for them to follow her up the ramp and onto the deck. Naomi and Vahid obeyed, Sayali pressed close to her side and watched the strangers waiting on the deck. 

A short, slender crew member broke away from the others. They wore a tattered, cropped shirt and loose, high-waisted pants with a utility belt packed with pouches and tools. Their hair was long, falling in a braid well past their shoulders, and a shade of white-blonde that was lovely in the hints of sunlight peeking through the high walls. 

But the violent marks on their exposed skin were what drew Naomi’s attention, a mesh of burns and raised scars from deep cuts that hadn’t healed well. From shoulder to wrist, in the flashes of skin between the gaps in their clothing, and- most notably- across their face from temple to opposite jaw, over their nose and just missing the eye itself. 

Someone had brutalized this person, and she had a sickening realization that it had been a dragon- possibly even one she knew. She wondered if it had been Faraco, if he’d been working up to something like this with Ajay before they’d gotten him out of the city.

“This is Ceren,” Linnea said, her bored tone at odds with the sharp awareness in her eyes. “My first mate. They’re deaf and mute, so don’t waste time with any attempted pleasantries.” 

As she spoke, her hands flew into a rapid pattern that was this realm’s version of sign language. Naomi marked a few similarities to the sign languages she knew between gestures and words through pure speculation. Vahid was still and calm at her side, deliberately relaxed and unthreatening as Ceren watched him with open wariness in their blue-green eyes. 

Linnea continued. “You will refer to Ceren as they or them, and you will not, under any circumstances, make them feel threatened or ask them about their past. Understood?” 

Naomi tore her eyes away from the scars on Ceren’s throat, wondered if they’d always been mute or if that was something else the dragons had taken from them. “Yes.” 

Ceren and Linnea shared a brief exchange before the first mate cast one last careful glance at Vahid and then called a wind current to lift them to the upper riggings. 

“You can stay, just steer clear of Ceren,” Linnea told Vahid. 

“That’s it?” Naomi asked. 

“If Ceren says they can handle it, then they can.” Linnea shrugged, squinting up at the glare of sunlight off of white-blond hair. “We all expected a panic attack the size of a hurricane at the first sight of your dragon here, so we’re counting this as a victory.” 

Then she turned away to shout a few commands to the others, sent them scurrying away to do their jobs. Naomi watched with interest as she tugged a small mirror from her belt and flashed a series of signals up to another mirror on the mast. Seconds later, a signal of brief flashes was returned on a small, round mirror fixed below the steering wheel on the upper deck, reflected into three others positioned around the ship. 

A communication system designed with their first mate’s needs in mind, Naomi realized, impressed. She staggered when the ship cut neatly away from the dock, Linnea sheathing her dagger with a practiced flourish. 

“Hold on,” she said with a grin, and the ship took flight. 

Sayali pinned her ears back and huddled close to Naomi as they slowly gained altitude. The wind picked up, Ceren hard at work in the upper riggings, and Naomi shivered in with the chill it brought. Vahid slid an arm around her waist and shared his extraordinary body heat as Sayali plastered herself to Naomi’s legs. 

They left the river behind and veered sharply towards the sea, passing through deep cavern walls with only inches to spare. 

The salt hit her first, filling her nose, her mouth, an achingly familiar sensation that brought her immeasurable comfort. The sharp cries of the sea birds came next, swooping in playful arches through the air, colorful wings wheeling overhead. And finally came the ceaseless crashing of waves against the shoreline, fading fast as they picked up speed and headed for the open ocean.

It wasn’t until a few minutes later when they caught sight of a large ship sailing through the rough seas that they realized this small boat wasn’t Linnea’s primary vessel. 

The Captain noticed their surprise. “You didn’t think this was it, did you?” She patted the railing fondly. “This here’s just a skimmer. The _real_ beauty is waiting for us down there.” 

Sure enough, the ship powering through the wild sea was as beautiful as it was massive.

Large and built with sleek, fast lines that would maximize maneuverability in the seas or the skies, the ship cut through the thrashing waters with ease. It was stained a dark brown- nearly black in the second sun’s fading light- and the sails were a deep maroon with a ghost-white sea serpent winding artistically around the mainsail. 

She saw the same painted creature snaking artfully around the white name emblazoned on the back of the ship- _The Revenant._ Captain Linnea’s call sign, one she’d apparently leaned into. 

“Say hello to your new home for the next few weeks,” Linnea said, and left to oversee their return. 

Naomi and Vahid shared a wary glance. “Few weeks? Do you think it’ll take that long to catch up with them?” She called after the Captain. Disregarding the fact that none of them had any idea of who had taken Darius. 

“Oh, we won’t catch up with them. Not in that ship.” Scratch that- apparently _one_ of them knew more than nothing. “They have anti-tracking spells woven into every inch of that beast. Luckily for you, I know how to find out where they’re taking him.” 

“And how would you know that?” She tried to keep the skepticism from her voice. 

Linnea glanced away from where she’d been signing up to Ceren. “Because we’re going to the information hub of the world, where secrets and bargains are traded between anyone who dares visit. Someone there will know where and how to find Darius, mark my words.” 

Vahid asked, curious, “Where is this this information hub?” 

“In the middle of the ocean, of course. Where else would you put a sovereign city out of dragon reach?” Linnea said cheerfully. 

“How can you be so sure?” Naomi asked worriedly. “Darius’s life is at stake here.” 

“That destroyer was armed for an attack on the palace of Nova Solis. There’s only one place in the world where you can get that kind of firepower, and that’s in Basharat. The Free City.” She rolled her eyes when they still seemed uncertain. “Look, this is why you hired me. I know the world outside of the dragon city- pirate, remember? Someone there will know.” 

The skimmer dipped lower, aiming for the _Revenant,_ and Linnea leaped up the stairs to guide them in. Naomi and Vahid just held on, tried to keep their footing as they accepted that they had little choice but to trust the pirate captain.


	16. Darcy: Reflections

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> literally just looked up and realized it was 3am. losing all sense of time in this quarantine 0.0
> 
> Checking in with the Avengers in a low key chapter (+ nsfw at the end)

**16: REFLECTIONS**

**Darcy**

Stark Tower was an odd place in the middle of the night. It was something of a haven for superheroes and their trauma-fueled insomnia, so it never took long to find one wandering the halls, no matter the hour.

Of course, when Captain America had gotten himself shot on a low-key supply drop for one of Hill’s field teams, said halls were a little busier than normal. Darcy hung back as resigned medical staff prepared for the quinjet’s arrival, wondering if she should tell them that bandages wouldn’t be necessary with her on site. Dr. Cho wasn’t here, though, and she didn’t recognize anyone else, so she let them continue. Having something to do seemed to help with their nerves, anyway. They must be new.

“Trust Steve to turn a casual flyby into a shootout,” Tony said, settling in beside her, watching his medical staff mill around and peer anxiously out at the landing site.

Someone warm and muscled crashed into her other side, so that she was bracketed by her dad and the circus freak slurping obnoxiously from a giant Starbucks cup. Tony caught her easily when she stumbled into him and they both turned identical unimpressed stares on Clint.

“Ugh, the judgmental Stark stare down.” Clint shuddered. “Now there’s two of you. Hate that.”

Tony leaned across her and snatched the cup out of Clint’s hands when he slurped noisily from it again. It said a lot about Clint’s state that he didn’t even notice until he tried to take another sip and found himself blinking at his empty hands.

“You look terrible,” Darcy marveled, peering at the truly spectacular bruising along the back of his arms and the black eye visible from space. “What’d you do, fall off a roof?”

“Yeah. Tracksuit mafia. Landed in a dumpster again.” Clint rolled his shoulders and winced. “Met a super hot nurse, though.”

“Did said hot nurse pull you out of the dumpster?” Darcy asked, judgmental.

“Not my finest moment, I’ll admit. Apparently not her first superhero dumpster dive, though.” He grinned at her, sheepish, then cocked his head, smile fading. “Hey, you’re also looking pretty rough, darlin’. You fall off a roof, too?”

Darcy crossed her arms. “No.”

She was aware of Tony and Clint sharing a look over her head, but couldn’t be damned to feel annoyed. She was still feeling raw and wounded after her fight with Jane, and had come home that night only to find Bucky on a short trip with Steve and Sam. She hadn’t had the energy to find anyone else, just curled up on top of her covers with all the lights on in the apartment and watched the sky until the call came.

Darcy was having a hard time pinning down how, exactly, she was feeling about her fight with Jane.

Hurt that the Fae had hidden the Demon Riders, that she hadn’t even tried to broach the topic with Darcy first. Discomfort, because some part of her knew _why_ Jane hadn’t tried- Darcy was hardly logical when it came to those monsters. She warred between feeling justified for her stance and knowing that blind hate- even for a demon- would ruin her eventually, one way or another.

Worst of all was the uncertainty lurking behind every outraged or wounded thought, wondering if this would be the thing to break them. She was terrified of losing the friend she loved with all of her being, and that fear sank its claws deep into her chest, kept that wound open and bleeding.

It left her lost and tired, emotions all over the place, a visceral pain in her chest with every rapid heartbeat.

“Stop having conversations over my head,” she muttered, aware of the wordless communication between the two Avengers. “I’ll be fine.”

“No doubt,” Clint agreed, slinging an arm over her shoulder and then wincing, other hand rising to gingerly clutch his ribs. Darcy frowned, reaching over to snag the pen from Tony’s pocket and sketching a careful healing rune on the back of Clint’s hand. She wrapped a hand around his wrist and let her magic loose, the rune glowing brightly as Clint’s breathing eased.

“Shit,” he sighed, shuddering lightly. “Thanks, Darce.”

“Come to me first, next time,” she scolded, handing Tony his pen back. “No more walking wounded.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” he said mildly, resting his cheek against her head, arm still looped around her neck. She let him lean, felt the way he sagged- in relief?- when she didn’t push him away. Darcy felt a spike of concern for him, an effective distraction from her own morose brooding. Apparently they should have been keeping closer tabs on their favorite disaster, if he was willingly accepting affection in front of the Stark Med flunkies watching the three of them through surreptitious glances. 

Most of them, she knew, had fallen for Clint’s dumb blond act and dismissed him as such. Which made no sense, considering he had been one of Shield’s top agents and was one of the best marksmen in the world.

He’d taught her something similar, actually, when she’d first started training with him and Natasha. Being underestimated had its benefits, and Strike Team Delta had a solid act to ensure people dismissed them as a threat when they wanted. Conversely, they’d also taught her to look closer at those places or things that people instinctively ignored or dismissed, a lesson that had aligned closely with seeing through Fae glamor and had saved her life more than once.

The ferocity and extent of her training from Clint had shown her just how much people missed when they looked at him- he was solid as a rock, a brilliant operative, and mean as hell in a fight.

Ignoring the others in the room now meant he was too exhausted for the act, which was a red flag if she’d ever seen one. So she let him lean all he needed, tipping her head against his shoulder and letting her eyes drift closed so she wouldn’t have to see the curious stares of the medical employees.

“Not to disturb you two from your nap,” Tony said soon after, amused, “but they’re back.”

The quinjet landed soundlessly outside thanks to the latest updates from Tony and Rhodey, and lights flickered on to line the pathway from the helipad to the building.

“Man, I love watching Steve get yelled at.” Clint straightened with anticipatory glee.

“You’re just tired of getting all of his disappointed stares,” Darcy said, relieved to see Bucky stalk off the jet ramp in apparent perfect health.

“Now I get to return the favor. Maybe we’ll have to sit on him again so he can be stitched up. That was fun.” For all his joking, Clint was watching Steve’s slow progress inside with sharp eyes and a blank face, too much of a spy even now to let his worry show.

“So much for a quiet supply drop,” Darcy greeted Bucky as the automatic doors parted for him. He shook his head, exasperated, and then did a double take at whatever he saw on her face. She shook her head and refocused on Steve. They’d have time to talk later.

“You know him,” he said, crossing his arms and twisting around to level Steve with a severe stare. “Eventually he gets bored and does something drastic.”

“It wasn’t drastic,” Steve protested, pale faced and sweating. From the bullet wound in his side, she presumed, still seeping blood despite his advanced healing.

“We had to keep it open,” Sam said when he saw where she was looking. His mouth was pressed tight, the skin around his eyes strained. “There’s shrapnel we couldn’t reach without supplies, and I wanted him back here with either you or Stiles if we needed to fish around for it.”

“Good call,” Darcy said on a tired sigh, stepping forward to help as Sam lowered Steve onto a gurney.

Steve glowered up at the ceiling. “It’s not that big a deal.”

“It’s a gut shot, Rogers,” Sam snapped. “Of course it’s a big deal.”

“He’s right,” Bucky interjected before Steve could respond. “Shut up and let the doctors work.”

One of the trauma doctors drew something bright pink up in a thick syringe and injected Steve with smooth, careful motions. “A mild anesthetic,” she explained. “With your metabolism, it’ll work for about… five to seven minutes.”

“Don’t worry,” she said when Steve’s eyes drooped. “We’ll work fast, Captain.” The team _did_ work quickly, finding the shrapnel and retrieving it a full minute before Steve’s eyes started to flutter.

“Quick find. Lucky your body was trying to push it out,” she murmured with obvious relief, moving out of the way. Darcy stepped forward and started drawing runes around the wound site with a marker Tony handed her. The doctors had applied an antibiotic spray as they’d finished, which left his skin slick and shiny.

“Jumpin’ into fights that aren’t yours,” Bucky grumbled, watching her work from Steve’s shoulder. “Damned stupid.”

“’S called heroism, Buck,” Steve slurred, coming around to squint at them with bleary eyes.

“It’s _annoying_ is what it is.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but he’s right,” Sam said. Bucky gestured pointedly at him, which Steve pretended not to see.

Darcy patted Steve on the shoulder when he sulked. “I’m sure you had a valid reason.”

“Don’t even start. You’re always neck deep in trouble, too,” Bucky accused. She flashed a quick grin at him, unrepentant. “The hell am I supposed to keep track of two of you? Give me a damned stroke.” He stalked off, still muttering. Most of the hall watched him go with interest, heads cocked.

“There’s the murder strut,” Darcy said thoughtfully. “You know, I’m really into it.” There was a vague sound of agreement from a doctor behind her that made her hide a laugh.

“Keep it in your pants,” Sam told her with fake sternness.

Clint laughed and headed down the hall, leaving to presumably check on Bucky. They made a surprisingly good team, the two snipers, constant bickering and all. Clint would make sure Bucky was solid while she finished healing their idiot friend.

Steve propped himself up on his elbows, looking around. “Hey, Tony, where’s Hill? I had some thoughts about-”

“Oh, no.” Sam shoved him back down. “Not happening. It’s bed rest for you, buddy, and not even the fun kind.”

“You’re going to hover, aren’t you?” Steve asked glumly.

“You’re damn right I am! Stop getting shot if you don’t like it!”

Steve heaved a sigh. Darcy patted his hip absently, checking her work. It wouldn’t do to let Captain America suffer from unchecked internal bleeding just because he was an uncooperative patient.

Runes in place and double checked, Darcy let her magic bleed into the sigils. The pair of them glowed a warm gold as her spark closed the wound neatly, brightening for a brief pulse and then fading away to leave smooth skin behind.

“There,” she said, satisfied. “Now be a good patient and let your hot boyfriend fuss over you for the next 24 hours. Got it?”

Steve caught Sam’s hand and pressed a kiss to his palm, softening Sam’s tense frame and anxious expression. “We’re lucky they weren’t planning on you showing up,” he scolded gently.

Darcy winced. Some of those still out to get the Avengers, or Steve in particular, had started using pre-fragmented hollow point bullets that exploded upon impact and left shreds of metal embedded within his body. Considering his advanced healing and metabolism, removing the shrapnel from the bullets was an excruciating and laborious task for everyone involved. Last time, she’d finally given in and used her magic to put him to sleep and keep him down. It was dangerous to play with magic and superheroes’ unpredictable biological systems, but being awake and not anesthetized had been more painful than the wound itself for him.

“Tell me about it,” Steve said. “Trust me, I’m happier than anyone that they don’t have to keep digging around for shrapnel.”

“What happened?” Tony asked, moving away from the wall and returning his phone to his pocket. “I thought this was a simple supply drop.”

“It was,” Sam said, “only we showed up right as they were doing an intel trade with foreign agents. They thought it was a set up, Steve jumped the gun-”

“They were _aiming_ at you!”

\- “And got himself shot before I could talk anyone down.”

Darcy traded looks with Tony, well aware that if Steve had been shot with Sam and Bucky present… “What’s the damage?”

“Someone will probably need to smooth things over with the head of their division,” Sam admitted after a moment’s thought. “We, uh, returned fire when Steve went down. No casualties, though.”

“Twitchy spies,” Darcy said, shaking her head. “That’s not a reassuring thought.”

Sam shrugged. “They’re part of a group combating the gangster warlords all over South America. It’s a rough job. Apparently they get set up on the regular.”

“They felt pretty bad about shooting Captain America,” Steve said, slowly sitting up with Sam and Darcy’s help. “No hard feelings.”

“Some hard feelings,” Sam corrected, scowling.

 _“Now_ who needs to keep it in their pants?” Darcy asked, dodging his retaliatory swipe with a laugh.

“Thank you for patching him up,” Sam said, smiling, “now go away. And take your cranky boyfriend with you.”

“Yeah, yeah. You.” She pointed at Steve. “Don’t ruin all our hard work. Behave for at least a day.” Steve rolled his eyes at her but didn’t argue as he swung his legs over the side of the gurney and let Sam help him stand.

She turned to go, not even a little surprised to find Tony at her side, ambling along with his hands in his pockets and a casual expression on his face that usually meant he was deciding how to broach an uncomfortable topic. She hadn’t fooled him a bit, that much was obvious.

She spoke before he did, knowing there was some lingering insecurity on his end about her not wanting or needing him when she had the pack. But he was still her dad, and she loved him enough to talk past the lump in her throat that had been there since she’d left the Fae realm.

“I had a fight with Jane,” she said quietly. She saw his quick, surprised look at the admission in her peripheral. “It was pretty bad. I’m not really sure where to go from here.”

“That bad, huh?”

“I reacted badly,” Darcy admitted. “But I… I don’t think I’m okay with what she’s doing? I don’t know. I don’t know how I feel right now.”

“That’s the Stark blood,” he said, gentle teasing that made her smile. “We’re prone to dramatics.”

“I learned from the best,” she said solemnly. “Between you and Peter, I’ve got dramatics to spare.”

Tony laughed. “I can advise this much: don’t make any decisions before you’ve slept and eaten.” He nudged her gently. “You look like you’ve been on your feet too long.”

She sighed. “Yeah.” Double checking that they were out of sight of the Stark Med employees, she turned to hug him, felt him prop his chin up on her head and let her hang on.

“This thing with Jane,” he said carefully after a while. “Do I need to get involved?”

She considered. “That would be a very bad idea, I think.”

“Bad idea or not, I’m here if you need me.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Anytime, kid.” He kissed her hair and let her go. “Now take your grumpy, second rate terminator out of my tower before he damages it. My insurance doesn’t cover that.”

“Does it cover first rate terminators?” She asked, genuinely curious.

“If it falls into the technical definition of superhero or villain, yes. Barnes is a gray area and the damned insurance agents would have a field day with screwing me over via a technical and vague loophole.”

“Sounds terrible,” she said, entirely unsympathetic. “You can afford it.”

“Obviously, but Pepper would be unhappy.”

Darcy nodded and went to collect herso-called second rate terminator. Best not to upset Pepper. She dealt with enough bullshit as it was.

But as payback for the terminator comment, she let Bucky appropriate one of the motorcycles from Tony’s personal garage rather than both of them walking the distance back to Iron Heights. They made it home at a disgustingly early hour, the sounds of a city coming to life vanishing behind her wards with the click of the door closing.

She bullied a tired, stressed Bucky into the shower and then went to the kitchen to pull out the press and make a few sandwiches for them both. She’d already eaten her first by the time he wandered into the kitchen, damp from the shower and starving by the sound of his stomach grumbling.

They ate in silence, slipping bits of turkey to the kitten, which they would undoubtedly regret later now that she knew they could be persuaded to share. She made him another sandwich when he wolfed down all three of his in record time, which he accepted with a grateful smile.

“Want to talk about whatever’s bothering you?” He asked. Her mouth curled as she watched him, swaying in his seat from exhaustion but apparently concerned enough about her that he was stubbornly ignoring it.

“After we take a six hour nap,” Darcy said. “Also, I love you a lot.”

He blinked at her. “Any particular reason?”

“Lots of ‘em, actually,” she said, fondness for him swelling and chasing away the last of the tightness in her chest.

“That’s nice,” he said thoughtfully, letting her herd him into the bedroom and shove him lovingly onto the bed. He craned his neck to watch her close the blinds and smiled softly at her when she crawled into bed beside him, collapsing with a huff before curling into his side.

She closed her eyes when he kissed her temple. “I love you, too, you know,” he murmured.

“I know.” Darcy let the last of her tension fade and the insistent threads of sleep tug her under.

~*~

She was too warm when she woke, buried under all the blankets on the bed for some reason. Bucky was curled away from her on the far side of the mattress without any of them, which made her frown.

Something had woken her, she realized, blinking away the lingering dregs of sleep. She propped herself up on her elbows when Bucky twitched, muttering something too low for her to make out.

Shit. This looked like a nightmare. She didn’t reach out, knowing that he sometimes panicked when touched if he was dreaming too deeply, and carefully sat up.

“Bucky.” She bit her lip when he jerked but didn’t rise. “Bucky, wake up. You’re okay, you’re safe at home.”

Even prepared for it, she flinched a little in surprise when he woke with a gasp, rolling out of bed and landing roughly on his knees. His eyes were still blank, she realized with a jolt.

“каковы мои заказы?” He asked.

She scrambled to translate, heart sinking- she was fairly sure he’d just asked for his orders. Instead of answering, she repeated the quiet, soothing mantra and hoped he would wake. Nightmares had a way of reopening wounds in the dead of night, and he had plenty of fuel.

It didn’t take long. He blinked, shaking his head as his eyes focused on his surroundings. Clearer than before but still disoriented, she noted with concern, crawling to the edge of the bed.

He made a noise of alarm and held out a hand, desperately trying to keep her back. It broke her heart to leave him kneeling on the floor, scared and confused, but she knew he would be upset if he came back and she was too close, aways so afraid of hurting her no matter how many times she insisted he wouldn’t get past her magic. Not that it had ever come to that; he tended to freeze when caught in his own head, would shut down entirely until someone could bring him out of it.

So she kept talking to him, giving him a rundown of the previous day, talking about the nemeton and her conversation with Laura. He tuned in halfway through her rambling about all the complications with the supernatural justice system.

“That wasn’t what had you so upset yesterday,” he murmured when she trailed off. He’d sat back against the wall, arms resting on his bent knees so he could press his forehead against them and hide his face.

She breathed a sigh of relief. “No, but I’m not telling you about that while you’re on the floor. No hiding from each other, Bucky. We had a deal.”

“This is different,” he grumbled, but rolled to his feet and let her pull him onto the bed. She flicked the covers over them, worried that he was too cold, and let him nudge her over so he could wrap himself around her from behind and bury his face in her hair.

"You're okay?" She asked, anxious. 

He nodded. "Think so. Just woke up confused, couldn't separate the dream from reality for a minute. I'm good, promise." She sighed in relief, trusting him to tell her otherwise. 

“So?” He prompted when she remained silent. She tangled their fingers together and tucked it to her chest, curling around his arm.

“Jane gave the Ak’ma riders and is planning to set them loose to hunt.” He swore, low but with feeling, into her hair. “Yeah. I found out, flipped out, and bailed after a short but terrible blow up with my best friend.”

“She thinks those Fae can keep them in line? That’s a lot of trust.”

“I guess. She says the Ak’ma were Hounds of the Wild Hunt before the previous Unseelie Queen corrupted them. That’s why they don’t ever stop hunting us.”

He was quiet for a moment, thinking. “What’s bothering you the most about this?”

She tucked her face further into the mattress. “She knows how terrified I am of those things. She knows what they’ve done, and she’s letting them free anyway.”

“It’s _Jane,_ though. She loves you. Would she really risk your life?”

 _No,_ was the answer that sprang to mind immediately. Jane would no more risk Darcy’s life than Darcy would Jane’s.

“I guess not,” Darcy said softly. “But she has different priorities now, and my safety isn’t necessarily one of them.” Jane was a _Queen_ now, had an entire realm of subjects to keep safe and healthy. She couldn’t sacrifice any of her people for Darcy, and Darcy would never want her to… And the Ak’ma, demons or not, were still Jane’s subjects.

“Oh.” She closed her eyes. “Fuck.”

Killing all the Ak’ma would be genocide, too, just like what had happened to nearly all of the sparks. Locking them up forever was just as bad, if not worse, and leaving them slaves to a formerly celebratory magic twisted into a curse was an equally terrible fate.

It was a hard thing to face, finding compassion for an enemy she hated and feared. Perhaps unfairly, which was a sobering thought as well. Jane was right- the Ak’ma hadn’t asked to be twisted into monsters, and she couldn’t abandon them when she had the power to fix it. That would have made her just as bad as the heinous queen who’d corrupted them so thoroughly it’d changed their very nature.

“I was an asshole,” she said, glum.

“I doubt that."

“It blindsided me, but I freaked the fuck out instead of listening. No wonder she didn’t want to tell me about it.”

“Sounds to me like you were scared, and you reacted out of fear.” He pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

“I mean, I was, but I just… should have been better. Shit.” She sighed. “I need to apologize.”

He hummed. “Now?”

Her mouth curled as he nosed along the curve of her neck. “I seem to be engaged at the moment, so I suppose it’ll have to wait.” A little time would let Jane settle, too, she hoped, and then Darcy would find her and apologize.

He nipped at the skin behind her ear and made her shudder. “How convenient. I also have nowhere to be.”

She turned her head, seeking his mouth as he slid his hand from hers and trailed warm fingers down her belly. He met her halfway, humming in contentment when she opened her mouth against his, lazy and slow and pleased. She couldn’t help but surrender to it, electric thrills shooting along her spine as his tongue dipped into her mouth and his fingers pushed beneath her tank top and found bare skin.

She felt the warm length of him pressing against her from behind, grinding her hips back and making him groan into her mouth. His hand had slid higher, skimming the curve of her waist and ridges of her ribcage before finally cupping a breast in his palm, rolling the nipple between his fingers.

Darcy pressed her thighs together at the surge of heat low in her belly, wet from the slick press and glide of their mouths, the sting of teeth and mollifying slide of tongues.

His hand abandoned her breasts and glided down her belly and along one thigh before gently urging it back, spreading her open so that his fingers could slide easily beneath the elastic band of her underwear to find the wet heat of her and make her gasp.

He teased her, slow and soft, fingertips dipping close to her slick entrance and along the sensitive skin of her cunt, refusing to press the blunt length of them inside no matter how much she whined or squirmed.

He fucked her with his mouth and teased her with his fingers until she was shivering and pleading, her nails digging into the warm muscle of the thigh holding her open for him.

Bucky pulled back, their mouths red and slick and swollen, and pulled her tank top over her head. She settled back down, back to his chest, while he writhed around and finally kicked his underwear off, leaving his long, muscled body blissfully naked against her skin.

She moaned into his mouth when he thumbed her nipple, rocking back against him. He ducked his head to take the other one in his mouth, sucking and laving at her breasts until she was pleading for more, pausing briefly to yank her own underwear off and hurling it off the bed with enough misplaced aggression to make him laugh.

Her head was pinning his other arm in place, the metal thoughtfully covered with a thin pillow so her hair wouldn’t get caught in the grooves of the prosthetic. He still managed to curl it around and down to cup her breast, gently massaging while he returned his attention to her cunt.

He found her thighs wet and slick when he repositioned them, her leg braced against his to give him room to touch her. She shuddered on a stifled moan when his fingers finally dipped into her, breaching her in short, shallow motions with every roll of her hips.

Bucky kept his hand still, let her do all the work. She rocked her hips, seeking deeper penetration and huffing in frustration when she didn’t get it, grinding instead against his palm, seeking friction against her clit.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured against her neck. “Just like that.”

The cool air in the room was a balm against her heated, feverish skin. She found a rhythm that worked for her, moving her hips in short figure-eight motions that let her feel the blunt edge of his fingers against her walls and the sensitive skin around her entrance, his palm a broad, flat surface to grind her clit against. It sent little sparks of electricity shooting up her spine, made her breaths come short and desperate.

The room was still and quiet except for the wet sounds between her legs and their breathing. Darcy turned her head to bury her whimpers into the pillow, choking back a gasp when he slid his fingers out of her and up, so that his first two fingers were on either side of her clit, a firm and steady pressure just outside of where she needed it.

She felt his hips angle back, felt the head of his cock brush against the lips of her cunt and glide easily between them, coated in her slick. Bucky pressed tightly against her back, a wall of heat behind her, and repeated the slow thrust.

Darcy’s breath caught at the flex of muscle against her, at the erection hot against her core and smearing precum into the mess between her legs.

His shaft dragged along her sensitive thighs and the pulsing need from her belly made her swear. The head of his cock pressed teasingly against her slit with every thrust, and she rolled her hips sinuously to glide along the length of him, smug at his choked off gasp.

Heat was winding low and tight in her abdomen. She writhed against him, seeking more friction than the slow tease he was giving her now. He muttered into her neck, groaning when she tightened her thighs with his next thrust.

She was a breathy, pleading mess in his arms when he finally snapped, hand briefly abandoning her clit to guide his cock into her with a thick, deep pressure that made her bite her lip to keep from crying out.

Darcy angled her hips back to take him in, fingers curling into claws as he spread her open, working his way into her inch by inch. And then he was all the way in, so deep that with the first thrust she had to choke back a surprised gasp at the sharp jolt of heat through her.

She arched her back and tightened around him. He swore and hooked her knee around his arm, tipping them so she was braced on her front, left to clutch at the mattress while her rutted into her. He balanced on one knee and the hand spreading her wide and open on the bed, dropping back so his vibranium hand could slide down and press against her clit.

She was gasping, making desperate choked-off keening sounds as Bucky fucked her ruthlessly, scrambling at the sheets in desperation as the heat in her belly built and built. He was muttering something against her shoulders and back, prayers or curses or both. The fingers against her clit were a blunt pressure that had her grinding against them, biting down on her own arm to muffle the sounds tearing free from her throat. 

“Come on, come on,” he panted into her neck, pressing his face into her skin as his hips worked against her, driving them both higher. He curled his fingers a little, just enough that the tips moved more firmly against the skin around her clit, and that was all it took to send her over the edge. She shuddered, clenching hard around him, and lost all sense of time as she came. She was vaguely aware of the hot spill of him inside her, the moans muffled into her skin, too busy trying to remember how to breathe to track anything else.

He gingerly pulled out of her, shushing her when she made noises of complaint, and flopped down next to her. She rolled over, hand smacking limply against his chest as they stared at the ceiling and watched the fan spin in lazy circles.

Darcy stretched, languorously pleased, and made a sound of contentment. “We’re a mess,” she said sleepily.

“Whoops,” he said, unapologetic. She thumped the hand on his chest against him, smiling when he caught it and pressed a kiss to the back.

She propped herself up on her elbows and leaned over him. “If I proposed a bath…”

“I would ask to be invited,” he said, mouth curling.

“Consider this your invitation, then.”

Neither of them moved. Then, with a sigh, he said, “I guess this invitation has fine print about who will be preparing the bath?”

“How’d you know?” She asked brightly, pleased when he laughed. She leaned over to kiss him, then rolled out of bed. “I’ll get wine. Oh, and snacks!”

“Snacks?” He called, lifting his head as she darted out of the room. “How long are you planning to be in the tub?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions, Barnes!” She called back, searching for the oreos.

“What was stupid about that question?” She heard him ask, but he stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom without expecting an answer so she left him to it.

She felt settled now, and not just because Bucky had done his level best to fuck the stress right out of her and succeeded. They would spend the rest of the day sleeping and relaxing and being with each other, and then tomorrow she would find Jane and make things right.


	17. Naomi: The Chase

**17: THE CHASE**

_**Naomi** _

Linnea’s crew were a fascinating mesh of people and cultures that Naomi didn’t recognize and, to her surprise, many of them disabled in some way or another.  Most wore serious battle wounds, scars that had carved out eyes or taken limbs, marks of a hard life spent at sea fighting other pirates and the armadas of the aquatic tribes. Older crew members were few and far between, the majority of the efficient crew youthful and exuberant- especially in their interest in Naomi and Vahid. 

To Naomi, it seemed as though she had a gaggle of teenagers forever following her like lost baby ducks, pestering her with questions. To her exasperated dismay, she could barely turn around without tripping over one of them. Only Linnea’s shouted orders to get to work could deter them, and only then for a few brief hours. 

It was hard to send them away, though, when they were so inquisitive, so excitable, even as they bickered among themselves with a familiarity that spoke of forged familial bonds. 

By the second day of their voyage, the kids had only grown more comfortable with her and now, apparently, sought to win her approval by recounting every individual fight they’d won or witnessed. She dodged flailing hands as two of them hopped around excitedly, re-enacting a fight that sounded remarkably embellished. 

Definitely so, considering Linnea’s wide grin from where she stood with her navigator, watching the sky carefully as she listened to the clashing voices and pretend but nonetheless bloodcurdling war cries floating up from the lower deck. 

Vahid lounged against the railing a few feet away, remaining politely within Ceren’s sightline, and valiantly restrained a laugh as the teens all vied for her attention. 

The suns dipped across the sky, moving well towards late afternoon and the temperature climbing higher yet. Their heat was welcome, though, warm and soothing against her skin. A familiar comfort, one she treasured at such a time. Between the heat of the suns, the steady flapping and rustling of the sails, the mast creaking and the sounds of bare feet thumping against the deck, she almost felt at home. 

Almost- until the realm slapped her with yet another reminder that she was very, very far from her home. But she had only to look at Vahid to remember that home didn’t necessarily have to be a place. 

Today’s reminder was the small swarm of Takoi that glided along the side of their ship, keeping a few feet above the water’s surface. Small and eel-like, the Takoi had white scaled bodies that skimmed through the air like it was water, their smooth swimming motions almost hypnotizing. They had a thin ridge of filament along the tops of the body and narrow fins along their sides and belly to steer through air currents. 

But they could dart in and out of sight like minnows if pressed, and had a tendency to bite anything within reach with the sharp little teeth set in a narrow jaw that could produce a surprising amount of force. Only humans bothered with them as a food source, the tiny groups not worth the effort from a dragon. Even so, the Takoi stuck to the lower levels of the realm to avoid the larger predators. 

Most notably, though, was their ability to secrete a substance along their scales that glowed like bioluminescent ink against their bodies. 

She’d learned very quickly that the Takoi were more than the illogical flying fish they’d appeared to be when Linnea informed her that the creatures used the glow to lure unsuspecting humans into traps, wherein they’d strip the flesh from their bones and proceed to eat the humans alive. 

The navigators were very careful to avoid any glowing areas of the seas, all of them knowing the stories of others who’d followed them and accidentally run their ships straight into a stretch of rocks or ship graveyards and had their crews slaughtered. 

Most of this swarm, thankfully, seemed aware of Vahid’s presence on the  _ Revenant _ and avoided the dragon and his lethal fire- and Sayali, who’d snatched one right out of the air when it wandered too close to the Arcos’s deadly jaws. Sayali had been delighted with her catch, though she’d ended up smeared with bioluminescent ink around her muzzle that had yet to wear off.

Linnea’s voice was low and rough when she called, “Take us up!” 

Naomi glanced at her as the crew dispersed like a school of fish at the arrival of a hungry shark, vanishing to their posts to carefully guide the massive ship into the skies. They parted from the water with a slow lurch that made her stomach swoop, angling for the clouds sliding along in a pastel blue sky. 

Linnea gave no outward reasoning for her decision to leave the sea behind, just monitored their progress with those fathomless gunmetal eyes. Sunlight glinted off of the numerous piercings that hugged the curve of each ear, peeking through the dark curtain of hair on one side of her head. Her shirt- this one also loose and lazily buttoned halfway, as though she couldn’t be bothered with the rest- billowed around her lean frame in the rising winds. 

The wind tugged at Naomi’s clothing, too, playful and insistent as they left the cerulean sea behind. 

From a few feet above the surface, she could see odd shapes sitting motionless beneath the water, the bones and skeletons of cetacean giants who’d died long ago, leaving behind mammoth skeletons that had settled at the bottom of a clear blue sea to be picked clean by the smaller creatures within. Schools of fish fluttered between sweeping spaces of the ribcage, through the pit of the eye socket and into the void within the skull as sharks and larger fish hunted along the high arch of its spine. 

A whale of some sort, she deduced, something large enough that it could have toppled Linnea’s giant ship with a casual sweep of its tail. Maybe their ship had left the ocean to avoid the hunting grounds of beings such as this one, sea creatures fully capable of snapping the  _ Revenant _ in half like a child’s toy. 

It was all at once terrifying and awe-inspiring, another aspect of the deep unknown. Further proof that there was no force of nature that beckoned like the sea. She loved it.

All around her, crew members darted around with manic focus, weaving through each other as they assembled the anti-dragon reinforcements to the ship’s armament. A necessary fortification when sailing the clear blue skies, though it was highly doubtful anyone would find a dragon this far out at sea with no land nearby. 

Reflector panels groaned as two crew members hauled them overboard and into place along the body of the ship, spelled to either hide them from sight or reflect beams of sunlight to blind an aerial opponent. The entirety of the ship glistened faintly with the viscous fireproof salve rubbed into every inch to prevent the ship from burning when under siege from dragon fire. It smelled faintly of seaweed, sharp and briny at the back of her throat. 

But the three Wind Mages aboard would provide the greatest protection, capable of creating heavy gusts of wind to throw a dragon off course and send them hurtling in whichever direction the Mage chose. 

Linnea flashed a signal through the chain of mirrors and moments later Ceren leaped off of the top of the mast to hurtle towards the deck, flowing to a neat stop with a gust of wind only inches away from the Captain with a grin that was defiant more than anything else. As though they’d never had the chance to experience joy and excitement on their own terms. As though they were still learning that they could take up space without being punished for it. 

Their white-blond hair had hints of a brilliant blue streaked through it underneath, and it would soon be entirely swallowed by the vibrant glowing dye applied every couple weeks. The dye was made from the same Nakano plant used for their tattoos and weapons, and was presumably traded for during the  _ Revenant’s _ frequent trips to Kailua. 

Linnea only raised a brow, unruffled by Ceren’s abrupt and dramatic arrival, and signed to them. The signs were part of a fully developed language, but Linnea and Ceren had evidently created a quick and dirty shorthand that made following their conversation- or spying on it- virtually impossible. 

Vahid remained respectfully on the other side of the ship, aware of Ceren’s seemingly unconscious glances as they tracked his position. The constant vigilance was a little heartbreaking, as was the flash of fear through Ceren’s eyes every time Vahid moved too quickly or they couldn’t find him among the milling crew and long expanse of the  _ Revenant’s _ deck.

Which left Naomi to climb the narrow staircase, clutching the railing with its elaborate carved designs into the dark wood as Sayali bumped gently against her hip, and single out the Captain for information. 

Ceren smiled tentatively at her as she approached, brightening further when Naomi returned it. She made a mental note to throw Faraco off of Nova Solis when they got back, assuming Soraya or Esteri didn’t kill him before then. 

Linnea was frowning at the wisps of clouds that surrounded them, her focus so intent that Naomi took a moment to study them as well. Flying this high up on the open deck of a ship was both magical and terrifying, though she’d made leaps and bounds of progress against her small fear of heights made worse by all those times she’d fallen off a dragon. 

The Nakano had almost beaten it entirely out of her. She still hadn’t decided if she was grateful or not. 

The sky was an eerie blue-grey, darker than it had been minutes ago and growing darker still. She hardly noticed Ceren taking flight again to manage the ship’s progress, far too distracted by the sudden, violent headache that clawed at her temples. 

Naomi blinked. The instant her eyes closed, she saw wild winds tearing through the  _ Revenant, _ ripping at the blood red sails. 

She opened her eyes, watched the passing clouds drifting peacefully by. 

Another blink.  _ Dark shapes moving through an even darker sky, winds howling and shrieking as the Revenant bucked and groaned against the onslaught. _

Quiet blue skies again- or were they darker than they’d just been a second ago? 

_ Cannon fire booming through the skies, enemy ships shielded from sight by angry storm clouds. But they were descending from above and behind, which could only mean-  _

“I think we’re being followed.” She kept her voice quiet, casual, so that no one would know of the spike of alarm she felt. 

Linnea slid calm grey eyes to Naomi. “I know.” 

Her brow furrowed. And how in the hell could the Captain know such a thing? Her watchful grey eyes missed nothing, but how could she know of the armada on their trail that kept well out of sight?

“How do you know?” Naomi asked. 

Linnea raised a brow. “How do you?” 

She narrowed her eyes, felt a grudging respect bubble to the surface. Fine. Point taken. The Captain could keep her secrets, and she would keep hers.  “Never mind. What are we going to do about it?” 

“Not much we can do, yet. Not until they make their move.” 

Naomi sucked in a breath when the wind suddenly picked up. “Right. So, uh, what are the odds they have a storm Mage on board?” 

Linnea’s mouth thinned. “High. And there’s not a ship in the world that can outrun a magic-made storm.” 

“Is that why you took us up?” She wondered. As bad as a storm would be this high up, she could only imagine the ferocity of an ocean submerging them under a wall of waves. 

“If we were going to be hit, better that it not be on the sea. She demands a sacrifice from everyone who sails her waters, and I don’t feel like testing fate today.” She grimaced as a low rumble of thunder sounded from far off. “We have a saying, those of us who call the ocean home-  _ Riehb na nauc a diuhc nièhf.  _ The sea will claim its own.’” 

“Reassuring,” Naomi muttered, but understanding softened her tone. She had spent many, many years on a ship with her mother. She’d learned to love it, yearn for it- but above all, respect it. 

“Let’s just hope this storm Mage is incompetent.” Linnea cocked her head, assessed the clouds gathering above their ship and flashed a series of signals to the crew with her small mirror as the sunlight weakened, unable to filter through the blockade of heavy grey clouds. Naomi wondered about the mirrored signals becoming obsolete as the light faded further, only to watch as Linnea dug a small glowstone out of her belt. It seemed to be covered in the same dye that the Nakano used, only intensified in a purer, rawer form than what they used for hair and tattoo dyes. 

Naomi took a breath, felt the sudden charge in the air that felt like a live wire against her skin. The winds howled as the first drops of rain splattered onto the deck, her skin, soaking through her clothing and leaving little damp spots behind. 

This was witch weather, dark and sinister and trembling on the cusp of something catastrophically wild. The sky turned dark and cold, shadows thickening so that they cast menacing shapes across the  _ Revenant. _

As though sparked to life by the slow but steady beat of raindrops, the crew of the  _ Revenant _ hummed as they worked to prepare for the gathering storm, the haunting tune rising above the rumbling sky. It took a few minutes while Naomi joined Vahid for her to parse the words sung in a lower dialect of the dragon tongue. 

She glanced back to see Linnea, standing proud and tall on the deck of her ship as the furious winds whipped at her billowing shirt and hair. The wind beat against the side of the  _ Revenant _ like echoes of waves as the crew began to sing over the creaking mast and screaming of the wind. 

_ I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide _

_ Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied; _

_ And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying, _

_ And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying. _

Naomi tasted salt and copper on her tongue, the air thick and humid as the storm loomed overhead, closing in on all sides. She heard the desperate flapping of the sails, felt the rainfall sweet and cool against her skin.

_ I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky, _

_ And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by; _

_ And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking, _

_ And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking. _

A roll of thunder shook the sky, drowning out the rest of the shanty and echoing deep in her bones. She took a deep breath, felt the endless suspension of a liminal moment, the one just before the first drop of rain in a storm. The splashes of water on the deck now were nothing, just playful hints of the approaching ruination. 

Clouds hung like gallows all around them. There was a thinness to the air, as though the storm Mage was gathering every spare bit of sky and air in preparation. 

And then, through the charcoal rifts in the sky, she saw six ships descending on them, all armed for war. 

Naomi had only a single, split second to react when a streak of lighting arched across the sky. A thunderbolt, aimed straight for the  _ Revenant. _

She threw up a hand and let her magic off its leash, met the strike with a blast of raw power that lit the entire sky gold for a prolonged few seconds. The lightning dissolved with a loud sizzling noise as it met her spark, but it left her shuddering in the aftermath and blinking through vision that had whited out. 

The crew stared at her, open-mouthed and awed, until Linnea shouted an order to focus. They made it a mile without another attack, which left everyone looking over their shoulders with paranoid squints and hunched shoulders. 

“Why haven’t they attacked us?” Someone asked, casting wary glances behind the ship where the enemy lurked. 

“Because,” Linnea said with dark satisfaction and a nod towards Naomi and Vahid, “they’ve just realized that we have the rebellion’s heavy hitters on board.”  She glanced over her shoulder, brow furrowing. Naomi followed her gaze, saw the ships splitting off from the group to come alongside the  _ Revenant, _ remaining well outside of firing range. 

They were being herded, Naomi realized. Herded straight into the storm waiting ahead of them, a colossal beast that bellowed and roared like any other living, breathing monster she’d faced. Only this one couldn’t be killed, couldn’t be matched. They would be torn to shreds if sucked into the raging void. 

But Linnea had a plan, it seemed, one to try and outrun the ships before they could shepherd the  _ Revenant _ to its demise. She shouted, the crew quivering in preparation for her next order. 

Naomi and Vahid joined her, braced against the deck on either side of the Captain. Linnea scowled. “So much for an incompetent Mage. They must have at least three on board for a storm this size. This is a Ship Killer.” 

“I can only guess how that got its name,” Vahid muttered. 

Linnea smiled wryly. “It’s a magic-made storm, made to block us from our destination. We get too close, it’ll drag us in and tear the ship apart before we have the chance to even scream.” 

Naomi turned from where she’d been studying the small gap between the enemy ship on the right and the storm, assessing whether it would be a viable escape route. “They’re herding us right into it.” 

Linnea gave a sharp nod, eyes lifting to assess the hurricane with green-black flashes of light arching between black winds. “Fish in a barrel,” she said, nodding to that same gap. “They’ll leave just enough space to make us think we can slip through, hit us once with a cannon, and we’ll be thrown right into its path.  _ Fucking _ storm Mages.” 

Her eyes tracked something Naomi couldn’t see, couldn’t follow, but then Linnea explained, “Modified air currents. They seem natural, but they’re traps laid by the Mages for the same reason. Hit one and it’ll be a one-way trip into the storm.” 

“They’ve got this down to an art,” Naomi said faintly. 

“Pirates with storm Mages are bullies,” Linnea said through gritted teeth as she guided the groaning  _ Revenant _ through a tight spot with Ceren’s focused help from the front of the ship. Naomi saw the shift of wind only inches from the side of the ship- one of those currents successfully dodged, though gods only knew how Linnea could detect them in this screaming nightmare of a storm. 

A cannon blast made them all flinch, ducking for cover. Naomi instinctively threw a shield over them, felt the cannonball explode against the wall of magic. 

Her clothes were soaked through now, though thankfully the air was warm enough that the water felt like a relief against her skin. The wind yanked at her clothes, strong enough that she worried it could pry her from the ship. She clutched the rail until the wood groaned in protest, saw Vahid doing the same on Linnea’s other side. 

Lightning flashed again, illuminating the dark shapes of the ships surrounding them on all sides. Naomi lost the following long minutes to instinct, to bursts of stress and fear as the assault rained down on them. 

Linnea had only a heartbeat to see the advancing ships and decide how to evade, which way to turn. But they were closing in, bullying the  _ Revenant _ straight into the awaiting storm. 

“This isn’t looking good for us,” Naomi called tersely over the fury of the winds, wincing as another cannonball crashed into her shield. She made her way to Vahid’s side, worried that she’d missed some of the shrapnel, but he shook his head at her in reassurance, his hair windswept and flying loose around his face.

“I have a way out of this,” Linnea shouted back. “But I need time to prep.” A sharp look accompanied her words. It was a question, a challenge for them to prove themselves. 

Something reared its head inside of Naomi in response to that challenge. Not the need to prove herself- no, she had nothing to prove to anyone but herself. But to show this pirate captain and her crew that sparks weren’t all the traitors they believed them to be. That they could use their might and magic for good. 

Naomi and Vahid shared a contemplative look. She raised a brow in question. A slow curl of his mouth in response. 

“Catch me?” She murmured, her mouth a hair’s breadth away from his own. Adrenaline was a thrill in her blood, a riot of energy and power. 

Gentle fingers skimmed the arch of her cheekbone as silver eyes flashed brightly in the descending darkness. “Always, my love.” 

And he smiled as he tipped lazily backwards over the railing, vanishing into the storm raging below. The crew shouted in alarm, some of them leaning over the rail to peer into the void after him. 

Naomi wasn’t worried. She could feel the heavy pulse of his magic as it swelled and erupted with his shift. She felt him rise, heard the hint of powerful wings over the rumble of thunder. She spun around, ran across the wide deck and leaped without hesitation into empty space. 

Faith made her weightless. She heard the crew shouting louder now, panicked, but before gravity could touch her Vahid swept up from beneath the ship to catch her. 

She caught herself against the dragon’s broad shoulder, clinging to a spike with one hand with her feet perched against his shoulder in a balanced crouch against black scales so warm the rain hissed upon impact. Her free hand dropped to feel the billowing clouds as they flew past the  _ Revenant _ and its gaping crew, climbing higher and higher. 

They’d practiced this with the Nakano, having decided that her two brushes with death by falling from extreme heights were plenty reason to broaden their skill set in aerial combat. It helped immensely that she was able to sense him with her magic- and Vahid her, to some extent. 

The crew watched them go, and she had a moment to think about how these people had long ago learned to fear the heavy beat of dragon wings- but now she saw fierce satisfaction, awe and wonder on their faces as she and Vahid soared past. How different it must be, to have that strength fighting  _ for _ them for once. 

They climbed higher, a wraith of approaching ruin slipping unseen past the ships in the blanket of darkness that they’d created, never guessing the role that it would play in their own demise. 

She saw the  _ Revenant _ try to rise, gain altitude, only to be blocked by an enemy ship. She tapped Vahid on the shoulder, pointing down when he twisted his long neck around in question. 

He tucked one bloodred-veined wing against his body, swiveling around, and took them in. 

It was almost too easy to wreck the ship, to let Vahid’s impenetrable body barrel through the sails, tail crashing through the deck as he gripped the mast between his teeth and tore it free. Naomi aimed for the cannons, set a few alight with her magic and adjusted their aim. He took flight again before anyone even realized what had hit them- just in time for the cannons to fire straight into the upper deck. 

The ship dropped out of the sky like a rock through a pond, disappearing into the darkness below. 

Back in the shadows of the charcoal clouds, Vahid roared a challenge. It echoed through the storm above the rumbling thunder, sending a chill of pure, primal fear down her spine. She grinned, knowing it would be far more terrifying to those who couldn’t see the monster stalking them under the cover they’d unwittingly created for him. 

There was a dragon lurking in the darkness, and it was coming for them next.

Only now, with something far worse hunting them, the ships swooped in on the  _ Revenant, _ cannons firing at will. Naomi saw the  _ Revenant _ rise, nose tilting until it was nearly vertical, saw the grim set to Linnea’s mouth as she turned the ship directly into the belly of the beast. 

Was her plan to  _ die? _ Naomi wondered through the shock of pure dismay. But no, the Captain obviously had a plan, because she brought her ship  _ above _ the storm and aimed for the half-mile wide center of it. To the eye. 

She was going to take her ship into the eye of the storm itself. Naomi took a second to marvel at the sheer, insane gall of the woman before returning to the task at hand. 

She called on her spark, felt the magic ignite inside of her. Knew that gold swallowed the dark blue of her irises as she lit her and Vahid both with a golden aura to draw the attention away from the  _ Revenant.  _

Two ships flanked Linnea, tried to guide her off course. 

Lightning flashed as Vahid dropped down from above, illuminating a silhouette of obsidian wings and a huge shadow backlit by raging gold magic. Naomi stood braced against him, eyes burning gold, one hand outstretched as the ships’ sails buckled under the force of her spark and careened wildly to the ground.

Two more ships tried to close in from below. Vahid tucked his wings against his body and took them into a free fall. 

Naomi anchored herself to his side with her magic, gripping the tall spike between his shoulders to remain mostly upright as he opened his mouth and released a stream of fire that caught on the ropes on one ship. The deck didn’t burn, likely treated with the same substance as the  _ Revenant,  _ but it seemed they hadn’t thought to protect everything. The riggings went up in smoke, the sails sagging and losing the tension needed to keep them in the air.

Naomi blocked a dragonglass bolt fired from the other ship, deflecting it into the storm below and using her magic to shatter the steering wheel. The sails ripped easily from their ties with a little force from her spark, and the ship was sent hurtling towards the ocean far below. 

She glanced up in time to see Linnea guide the ship over the eye and then drop straight into it. Vahid followed, both of them aware that the sixth ship had quickly backed off at the sudden and brutal destruction of their fleet. 

The storm hadn’t lessened, though, and she realized why when Vahid tilted into the eye of the storm to follow Linnea. 

A seventh ship floated in the eye, a trio of Mages standing with their hands raised on the deck as they conceived and propelled the storm’s fury. Hidden safely within, at least until the  _ Revenant _ opened fire on them without warning. 

They’d thought themselves safe here, in the heart of the chaos, but they apparently hadn’t expected Linnea to be crazy or capable enough to fly in after them. Naomi felt a fierce jolt of satisfaction when alarmed, panicked shouts rose from the other ship and the Mages scattered. But Linnea didn’t let up, kept firing until the winds faltered and the eye of the storm gaped open as though pulled apart at the seams. 

Until the screaming winds slackened entirely, leaving only the distant call of the rough seas miles below. The ship joined the remains of the others littering the surface, swallowed by the sea and her endless hunger, her demand for penance. 

The  _ Revenant _ leveled off, leaving the destruction of the fleet behind. Vahid swooped by the ship and bellowed a victory cry that was echoed by the crew cheering after them. 

The remaining ship, Naomi noted, had turned tail and fled as quickly as it could after the storm dispersed. Good. Someone to carry the tale of the  _ Revenant _ and those onboard to other pirates, a warning of what would come of those who dared to oppose them. 

Naomi was flushed and grinning when Vahid dipped low towards the deck, hovering to allow her to leap off of his back before he shifted and joined her. He was breathing harder than usual, still recovering from the attack on the palace, but not as weakened as she’d feared. 

She reached out to brush his hair away from his face, love for him and victory a beautiful riot inside of her. Her breath hitched as he caught her hand, brought it to his mouth as his eyes burned into hers. 

The crew applauded their return, faces awed, and Sayali bounded over to them with a loud bark. Linnea grinned down at them from where she was draped casually over the wheel of the ship, small tears in her shirt from the debris carried by the storm winds. 

“Not bad,” she said, impressed despite herself. 

“Same to you,” Naomi said honestly. “I thought you were nuts until I realized the storm Mages were hiding inside the storm.” 

“It was a gamble.” Linnea shrugged. “One that paid off this time. But it wouldn’t have been possible without you two buying us time to get above the storm.” It was a compliment, grudgingly given or not, and the trace of approval in her voice gave Naomi a satisfied glow. 

Ceren watched Vahid thoughtfully as Naomi badgered him into sitting down to rest. He was mostly healed from the attack, but she could tell the lengthened combat had winded him a little more than he’d expected. She fussed quietly over him, cupping his face in her hands to assess his level of exhaustion. 

He smiled warmly at her as she traced her thumbs under the shadows beneath his eyes, catching her wrists in his hands. He turned his head and pressed a kiss to her palm. “I’m fine, Naomi.” 

“You were nearly blown up two days ago,” she said sternly. “Let me worry.” 

“You were injured as well,” he pointed out. 

She arched a brow at him. “And which one of us can heal wounds with our magic?” She asked imperiously. He grumbled a response, which she took as a win. 

Ceren observed the exchange with careful attention, one hand absently lingering on a burn in the shape of a handprint on their forearm. Linnea passed them, touching gentle fingertips to Ceren’s shoulder in quiet support before joining Naomi and Vahid. 

“The rebellion’s heavy hitters?” Naomi asked dryly. “When did we get that reputation?” 

She slouched against the side of the railing and breathed in the cool, quiet air. “The Nakano were impressed with what you two could accomplish together. I thought they were just enchanted with the first magic user who wasn’t a dick.” 

“The kids, you mean?” 

Linnea nodded sagely. “That’s the key to success,” she said, solemn. “Corrupt the youth. That’s what I did, anyway.” A passing crew member snorted. She scowled half-heartedly after them. 

“Those ships didn’t know Vahid and I were on board,” Naomi said thoughtfully. “So why did they come after you?” 

Linnea’s good cheer slid away. She stared at the glittering stars slowly crawling out of hiding, identifying and tracing constellations like it was second nature to check their position, to make sure her ship was on course. “I recently made a few enemies. I didn’t think they would have the balls to actually come after me, though.” 

“No one will try it again, after that fight.” 

She brightened again. “You’re right, this is going to do wonders for my reputation. Plus they sent seven ships and three storm Mages, just for  _ me.” _ Bizarrely, she seemed more flattered than anything, and she nearly skipped across the deck to relay the information to Ceren.

“There’s something wrong with her,” Naomi muttered, watching her go. 

Vahid hid a laugh, then sobered to quietly say, “We aren’t getting the whole story.” 

“Oh, I know. A few recent enemies or not, those ships coming after her- the storm- that was a personal move.” 

“Retaliation for something she stole?” 

“I don’t know.” Naomi chewed on her bottom lip. “I mean, I don’t doubt the stealing, but I keep wondering what she meant earlier when Sonia asked about her small crew. She said that they’d found a better opportunity.” 

“And then turned on her? But why? For what?” 

“That’s what we need to find out,” Naomi said, grim. “Because it could very well get us killed before we find Darius.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another extra update! I'm going to try to manage twice weekly updates now, but no promises. You'll definitely get Sundays though. 
> 
> Also, the song is actually a poem by Joh Masefield in 1924 called Sea-Fever.


	18. Darcy: Interventions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is late because my brother had not one but THREE personal crises this weekend, all of which I was roped into when really only one of them required my involvement. Life of the oldest sibling, y'all. 
> 
> Next update is Sunday. But, like, for real this time.

**18: INTERVENTIONS**

_**Darcy** _

Her plans of finding Jane were derailed when she opened her door early the next afternoon to find Lydia waiting outside with an ominous expression on her face and a giant book in her hands.

Before she could open her mouth to say... something, Lydia shoved the book into her hands and stared at her so expectantly Darcy instinctively and obediently looked at the book, feeling as though she would stand in the open doorway and read the whole damn thing right then if only Lydia would quit with the angry eyes and disapproving aura.

It was a massive tome, the leather binding thick and dyed a deep, earthy green. The pages within felt like parchment, yellowed with age but still intact, sturdy and soft as velvet between her fingers. The book had _weight_ to it, a presence that made her breath catch in her throat, something untamed and joyous woven into every inch of the tome so that it seemed to resonate in her hands.

“The history of the Wild Hunt,” Lydia said, the green of her eyes unfathomable as she watched Darcy. “The story of how it came to be, what it means to the Fae and our realm, and the systematic and barbaric destruction of a ceremony that had been sacred for millennia.”

“Why are you giving this to me?” Darcy asked quietly, tracing a reverent hand over the binding.

The tilt of Lydia’s red-painted mouth was almost sympathetic. “So you can understand the extent of the brutality that the queens of the Ash and Blood Reign inflicted upon the Fae. Their realm didn’t turn into what it did on purpose- they destroyed a sacred ceremony, corrupted those born to uphold it, and the land turned against them.”

Lydia tossed her shining red hair back and cocked a hip, her sheer black dress fluttering feather light against her thighs. “We’re trying to undo a thousand years of destruction. The Ak’ma are monsters, but they’re also victims. We have an obligation to them.”

“I know.”

“Good. Tell Jane that. She’s moping and I have better things to do than play mediator.”

And yet she’d still made the time to find this book, give it to Darcy in the hopes that it would bridge an understanding to heal the rift between her and Jane. A Queen who looked out for her own, Darcy thought with a surge of warm appreciation. Lydia’d always had trouble expressing her love for her friends. They’d learned to read the signs that she did give and understand them for what they were.

“Thank you, Lydia.” Darcy leaned in before she could escape and dragged her into a hug, the book nearly vibrating between them.

“She loves you,” Lydia said quietly when she released her. “But she can’t turn her back on those who need her, demon or not. We promised to do better, Darcy.”

“I understand. I’ll fix things between us, don’t worry.”

“Good. She’s been unbearable.” Lydia smiled and tapped a perfectly manicured fingernail on the book. “Read it. You’ll find it interesting, I’m sure. The opening ceremony for the Wild Hunt is in a week, Earth time. I’d better see you there.”

Darcy cringed a little at the thought of being present the moment all of the Ak’ma were set free. But it was a question of trust, she supposed, and her faith in Jane steadied her.

“Is this a joint thing?” She wondered.

Lydia inclined her head. “‘To foster better relations between the realms’ is the official line,” she said. “The reality is that and that both of our realms still have dissenters hiding and killing whenever they can get away with it. This will solve that problem. The magic of the Hunt will help heal the lands and its people. Fae are more like humans than you’d think; we need purpose, too, and the freedom to live openly and without fear.” 

“That I understand,” she murmured, gingerly opening the book and pausing in surprise at movement within. Her mouth curled into a smile, entranced by the pictures moving within.

“I’m not saying you need to get over yourself about the Ak’ma. That would be inconsiderate and unfair,” Lydia said carefully. “I'm just… asking you to consider that out of all the Fae in both realms during the Ash and Blood Reign, they suffered the most.”

Darcy looked up in shock, chilled to the bone. She’d seen the aftereffects of the Queens’ reign, the way the land itself had died and ruined its people with it. Remembered the hollow eyes and empty stares of a world full of wounded, half-dead Fae trapped in a land dissolving beneath their very feet.

She did not want to imagine what the Hounds of the Hunt must have suffered to become the monsters they were today.

Lydia looked away, mouth pressed tight. “I have more sympathy for them than I’d expected, too.” She nodded to the book in Darcy’s hands. “The Hounds of the Hunt used to look an awful lot like our werewolves.”

Darcy sucked in a breath. “Oh.”

“The details of their… transformation are in there. I wouldn’t read it at night, if I were you. I didn’t sleep for a few days after reading it.” She met Darcy’s gaze, brows drawn together. “But it was a reminder, about power and those who abuse it. The lengths they’ll go to keep it.”

“I know.”

“I used to dream about the Fae realm. Did I ever tell you that?” Darcy shook her head. Lydia smiled, small and soft. “Even after you and Allison came to get me, to rescue me from the Seelie Queen all those years ago, I couldn’t quite let it go. Some part of me was always drawn to it. I’d find myself standing at the gates sometimes, one step away from going back. _Wanting_ to go back.”

“I never knew,” Darcy said, quiet.

“I didn’t want anyone to know. It felt like a weakness at the time. You know I’m not good at admitting those,” she said with a wry smile. “But when Jane killed the Unseelie Queen and took me through the gates again… it felt like the answer to a question I didn’t even know I was asking. Like all of the broken pieces of me fit perfectly to the broken pieces of the realm.”

“Like home.”

“Yes. A place I fit, finally. And the pack has given me a home since you pulled us all in and made us a family, people who made me feel like I wouldn’t be alone all my life. But some part of me was still lost.”

“And now?”

“A banshee rarely settles, I’m told. Many lose their minds from the constant whispers of death and awareness of those leaving one world for the next. It’s… different, in the Fae realm. Quieter, for one. Easier to control my powers.”

“You’ve found peace,” Darcy said, reaching out to grasp Lydia’s hand. “I’m sorry we weren’t there for you when you needed it.”

Lydia shook her head. “But you _were._ That’s my point. Without you, the pack, Allison, I would have never found this part of myself. I never would have let myself grow, or have the confidence to hold an entire realm. I would’ve let the empty void of my life drown me. Would’ve kept playing air headed princess and dating emotionally repressed frat boys, hoping that my parents might bother to _see_ me for once.”

“They didn’t deserve you,” Darcy told her, fierce. “Any of them.”

“I know,” Lydia said, smiling fondly at her. “Because I had werewolves and sparks and hunters treating me with the respect I had always craved from my own family. I had friends who loved me and weren’t afraid to show it, or say it, or prove it. None of you gave a damn that I was half Fae. You gave me support and room to grow. You helped me when I needed it and let me help you in return.”

Darcy blinked rapidly when her eyes blurred, remembering the early days with a growing pack and threats around every corner. The way the cracks between strangers had melted away, leaving behind a solid foundation of people who would give it all for those standing with them.

“We are so much more than what we were,” Lydia continued. “And I know for certain we’ll keep growing, because we have the kind of faith in each other that doesn’t change. It’s the one thing I’ve always counted on, ever since you and Allison traveled to another dimension to save me.”

“So stop being an idiot about Jane?” Darcy asked, throat tight.

“So stop being an idiot about Jane,” Lydia echoed, laughing softly. “She loves you. You love her. Don’t let fear ruin that.”

“I won’t,” Darcy promised.

“I know.” She squeezed Darcy’s hand. “You’re one of the most important people in my life. I wouldn’t risk your life for anything. So I know, without a doubt, that Jane wouldn’t set them free if she thought they would come for you. Have faith.”

Darcy hugged her again, grateful beyond words that this woman had come into her life and let them all past her walls. “Do you want to come in? Bucky’s making lunch.”

“Can’t,” Lydia said, apologetic.

“Science to do, realms to rule, and all that?”

“To start,” she agreed, and tapped the book again. “Read it. I’ll come get you for the ceremony.”

“I’ll be ready,” Darcy promised. She watched Lydia walk down the stairs and out of sight before dropping her attention back to the book in her hands.

A door at the other end of the hall closed. She didn’t look up as Boyd approached, pausing in front of her to peer down at the book. “What’s that?” He asked, interested.

“Fae history book,” Darcy answered, idly flipping through the pages. Boyd sucked in a breath at the sight of moving pictures within, bending down to watch with fascination.

“Quit lurking in the hall, you two,” Bucky called from the kitchen. Darcy rolled her eyes but stepped back to allow Boyd entry, leaving the door open since she could hear Laura and Santiago climbing the stairs.

They entered the apartment as Darcy and Boyd were settling at the counter, hunched over the Fae tome and murmuring quietly to each other as they read the translation penned in Lydia’s neat handwriting.

Erica was on their heels, having apparently run to the sandwich place down the street to buy everything they would let her. She listened in on their conversation with poorly concealed hilarity.

“What’s this about your countertop needing repairs?” She asked, setting a giant bag on the counter and leaning against Darcy and Boyd’s backs. Darcy glanced up, almost positive she didn’t want to know. Sure enough, Santiago looked shifty and Laura smug, which basically told the whole story.

“We know a guy,” Boyd offered absently, attention on the book.

Erica grinned with all her teeth. “Sure do. We broke our tub.”

“Couple times,” Boyd said, mouth curling when Erica muffled a laugh into his shoulder.

“I don’t want to know,” Derek announced as he entered the apartment, Cora rolling her eyes behind him and shoving him forward. He stumbled, nearly fell, and twisted to glower at her, which she ignored entirely in favor of sniffing out the coffee.

Bucky eyed her warily when she made a beeline for the pot, stepping carefully out of her path as she irritably fished around in their cabinets for a mug.

“Why are you all here?” He asked in confusion, stepping further out of the way when Cora glared blearily at him. “Did I miss a pack meeting announcement?”

“Yeah, we texted about it last night,” Laura said.

Darcy and Bucky traded looks of familiar exasperation. “Did you text either of _us_ about it?”

Laura opened her mouth to give what was sure to be a flippant affirmative, then paused and cocked her head in thought. “Hm. Maybe not. Whoops.”

Darcy shook her head as Bucky turned to frown at Cora, who had a container turned upside down over her coffee, watching the waterfall of little white grains dissolve.

“That’s salt,” he told her, looking worried for her state of mind. There was a long pause as Cora stared down at her drink. Then she shrugged and drank it anyway.

“Baby Hale, what have you been doing that has you so tired?” Erica asked, heroically suppressing a laugh. Santiago gently tugged the thoroughly salted coffee cup out of Cora’s hands and replaced it with another.

“Chasing down leads with Nat,” Cora said tiredly, claiming the third chair beside Darcy and pillowing her head on her arms. “I left Charleston late last night and drove through the night to get back.”

“That’s a twelve hour drive,” Derek said, raising a brow. “We could’ve postponed this meeting long enough that you didn’t have to drive all night.”

“We really couldn’t,” Cora muttered. “We’ve got shit to do.”

“Because she’s a micromanaging lunatic that wouldn’t trust us to do it without her,” Laura said cheerfully. There was a muffled growl from the bar.

“Be nice,” Darcy said, coming to her defense. “She’s done most of the legwork here.”

“Most?” Boyd asked, offended. “What do you think I’ve been doing, then?”

Darcy shrugged at him. “I don’t know, to be honest. I’ve been chasing down other things.”

“Spread thin,” Laura murmured with a concerned frown.

“Feels deliberate,” Santi agreed quietly.

“You think someone’s trying to split our attention on purpose?” Erica asked. “Why?”

“Things are bound to fall through the cracks when we’re all exhausted and buried under a mountain of work,” Laura pointed out. “Maybe someone intends to exploit those cracks for their own agenda.”

Cora lifted her head. “And maybe they’re already doing just that.”

“Do you know who?” Darcy asked.

“I know for a fact that Vanessa Marianna has been preparing for something big,” Cora said grimly. “Vamps all over the country are disappearing- old ones, too, at least a century old.”

“Not easy targets,” Boyd mused. “You think Vanessa is killing them?”

“She doesn’t have to, not with the base of followers she’s built. She can dispatch a group big enough to take on a whole pack of werewolves and make her enemies vanish. Though she's just targeting vampires. For now, anyway.”

Laura leaned back against the counter, crossing her arms. “We know that Vanessa is the playmaker in Hell’s Kitchen, not Fisk. I don’t think Fisk even realizes he’s being played, from what Daredevil has said.”

“A lot of the known victims were either killed or turned by vampires,” Cora said, crossing the room to turn the projector on. Boyd handed her his laptop so she could pull up an updated list.

“And the others?” Darcy asked, spinning idly in her chair.

“I don’t know,” Cora admitted. “But someone is backing Vanessa’s play. Someone powerful, with a lot of resources. The thing is, based on the timing and location of a lot of the murders, I think they’re also using Vanessa’s spree to cover for their own kills. Within the last two years, at least.”

“Two factions, then,” Derek said, studying the complicated board that Boyd and Stiles had set up. “Vanessa and an unknown group who use druid magic to kill.”

Laura’s expression was still. Contemplative. She noticed Darcy watching her and smiled wryly. “I wonder about the connection between a druid assassin and the lack of druids’ involvement with my own project. No one’s refused the invitation, exactly, but I don’t like the silence from their end, either.”

Derek piped up. “I checked on Imani at the tower last night. She thinks Rowan is going to wake up soon. They’re recovering quickly, now that Malik finalized an antidote.”

“So we all think that Rowan found something the druid assassin didn’t want them to find, right?” Erica asked, looking around. “That’s way too much of a coincidence, especially for us.”

Santiago hummed in agreement. “The question is what they found.”

“Stiles is trying to trace their steps through the research, but we won’t know anything for sure until they wake up.”

“In the meantime, we’ll need to get more information on the deaths I’ve marked here,” Cora said, pointing out a long group of names. “I’ve got basic backgrounds on them all, but nothing to connect them or why they might have been murdered. These kills were all over the place, location-wise and magic-wise. Other druids, a few witches, some that, by all appearances, were entirely human.”

“Killed by a druid, no less,” Darcy muttered. Druids believed in the balance of forces in the world, and their practices usually strictly supported that central belief- it was why Deaton had refused to be involved with the Alpha Pack.

“We’ll figure it out. We’ve got an ace up our sleeve, remember?” Laura smirked. Cora groaned from the other room, but she was also trying to hide a smile.

There was more bickering that followed, light-hearted teasing between siblings and pack that left them all smiling. Darcy tuned it out, though, distracted by something tugging at the edges of her consciousness, like a half-formed thought frantically trying to get her attention.

She shifted her shoulders at the uncomfortable feeling of phantom fingers running up the length of her back, shivering slightly when they didn’t fade. Her hand lifted to her head, fingertips brushing her ear at the sound of slow, quiet movement, soft cracking sounds, so faint she could have imagined it.

Darcy stood, turning to stare at the windows behind Cora and Derek. The late afternoon sun dipped low in the sky, dragging the city into what was sure to be a humid night. The distractions were more urgent now, something insidious just outside her reach but closing in.

She was distantly aware of the others’ questions, the phones that started ringing behind her. And then that frantic half-thought finally tumbled into awareness.

Her outer proximity wards had been disabled.

“Something’s wrong,” she said, reaching for the other wards built into the side of the building. They flickered at the touch of her magic, ready to respond-

Only to suddenly vanish from her reach, cut in half like a snapped cord. She had a single moment of shock- who the _hell_ had managed that?- before the outer wall of her apartment exploded inward.

She was thrown back, caught by Boyd before she hit the island head first. Cora and Derek, standing closest to the wall, went down in a shower of brick and glass.

Darcy barely had time to take a breath before vampires poured into the room through the hole in the wall, hissing at the burn of the sun at their backs.

Laura barked a warning and vaulted over the island, heading for the door just as it burst open and something big and hissing and scaled sprang through it. She spun, ducking the clawed fingers, and kicked it in the side hard enough to send it spinning away.

Erica had already shifted, clothes in shreds all over the floor, and was fighting three vampires at the same time. The vamps tried to stay out of range of the powerful jaws that would snap their bones like dry twigs. They were mostly failing.

Darcy saw a number of vampires looming over a dazed Derek and Cora, who were trying to drag themselves free of the piles of brick. She swore and blasted them back with her spark as Bucky and Santiago hurtled past her to drag them out.

Behind her, Boyd and Laura were fighting the… was that a lamia? Darcy cursed under her breath and zapped a vampire that lunged for her in the face. He dissolved into ash.

Phones in the room were still ringing- everyone’s, by the sound of it. She heard shouting from the hallway, and realized with a jolt that the residents in the building might also be under attack.

Erica snarled behind her. Darcy spun around and dove into the knot of bloodied vampires surrounding the blonde-haired wolf, snapping necks and blasting them with her spark as she went. Erica backed up until her hip bumped into Darcy’s, where she settled in and returned to fighting the oncoming hoard.

Laura and Boyd were working with brutal efficiency to bring the shrieking creature down. Lamia were cousins of gorgons, Darcy remembered vaguely, and there was something specific needed to kill them, something that made her think of the kitchen.

Bucky had retrieved one of his knives from somewhere- the couch, maybe- and was working in tandem with Santiago to bottleneck those still pouring into the apartment. Santiago had shifted into a long limbed, sharp toothed jaguar, dragging vampires into reach with powerful forearms and claws and ripping their heads off.

Cora had shifted as well and barreled past everyone through the door, her snarls rising above the panicked shouts from the rest of the building.

Derek grappled with two vampires, tossing one into the far wall and leaving a giant streak of blood behind.

“Hey! _Hey!_ I just finished repainting this room!” Darcy shouted at him, inexplicably angry at the sight.

“Seriously?!” Derek demanded, struggling with a third. Laura laughed.

Darcy spun, kicking a particularly tall vampire in the knee so hard it audibly cracked and gave out, bringing his face down to Erica’s level.

Another vamp swiped at her from behind. She caught her at the wrist, twisted it viciously, and hurled the vamp over her shoulder and into the floor, finishing her off with her spark.

Boyd and Laura were in their beta shift, teeth and claws elongated and eyes burning bright with the ferocity of their fight. They were both bleeding from multiple wounds, but the lamia was injured, too, slowed by the deep gouges in its side and long tail.

Darcy risked a glance over at the giant gaping hole in her wall, shocked to see vampires still climbing up the side of the building with fangs bared and eyes bright from hunger and the scent of blood within the apartment.

The armband of runes on her arm shifted, heating against her skin as she raised a hand toward to hoard. “Get down!” She shouted at Bucky and Santi, who didn’t hesitate before dropping to the floor.

The magic under her skin _burned,_ pouring forth like a tidal wave as she funneled it through the rune and guided it. It looked and felt something like a lightning storm in a bottle, bolts of her magic exploding out of her with a deafening crackling sound as it struck its targets.

A curtain of ash hung in the air for a heartbeat before raining down, nearly twenty vampires destroyed in a matter of seconds.

“Not bad!” Bucky called, flashing her a quick grin as he dragged a vampire away from Santiago and quickly dispatched it.

“Is it just our place?” She yelled back over the sounds of the lamia’s angry screams and the wolves growling back.

Bucky risked a glance out the hole and down, pulling back quickly when a vampire lunged for him. “Yeah, but they’re coming in through the doors and windows all over.”

“Fuck,” Darcy snapped, spinning to the side to dodge an attempted tackle. She didn’t bother with follow up, just kicked him into range of Erica’s teeth. “Someone’s got to get upstairs!”

Another vampire was stupid enough to bite her on the shoulder while she fought a second one off. She paid it and the bite no attention, aware of him shrieking in agony and exploding into ash only moments later.

They were all bleeding and covered in sweat and dust and worse, glass shards stuck in their skin and hair from the initial explosion. Blood streaked the floor from the glass embedded in the ‘wolves and Santi’s paw pads, the pain ignored by all of them, no time to pry it out.

Supernaturally strong hands gripped her by the arms from behind, dragging her backwards with blinding speed. She swore and braced against them, wincing at the pricks of pain from sharp nails breaking skin and leaving behind crescent shaped wounds.

The vampire held her in place for two others closing in fast, claws extended to presumably rip her throat out. She used the vampire’s hold to balance, jumped off the floor to kick the closest in the face, twisted mid air to clip the other in the nose with her heel.

Too late, the vampire let her go, only to realize she’d used her momentum to leap entirely over him and land behind him. She pressed her hand to his back and let her magic burn through him, showering the other two with ashes before she gave them the same treatment.

“Darcy! A little help?” Laura called, garbled through her fangs. She spun, swearing at the sight of the lamia still putting up a fight.

“Okay, okay, what was it?” She muttered to herself, skidding into the kitchen and flinging the spice cabinet open so hard the door cracked and fell off one hinge. “Salt? Yes, salt.”

She uncapped the salt shaker and tossed a lighter beside it along with a can of cooking spray, only to snatch both up again when a vampire found her in the kitchen. She winced at its shriek, ears ringing, and returned her attention to the spice cabinet as the vampire melted behind her.

“Herb, it was an herb,” she said, frantically tossing things over her shoulder. She glanced back once to see Santiago sprint out the door, hopefully heading for the upstairs residents.

A howl from outside made the fight slow, the vampires hesitating at the sound of reinforcements. Rapid gunshots followed, and Darcy grinned to herself.

“It’s Peter and Chris!” She shouted to Bucky, who’d made a noise of alarm at the sound of gunshots.

She turned back to stare at the cabinet. “Fuck it,” she decided, grabbing a handful of containers and prying the lids off.

Laura and Boyd had lured the lamia closer, Erica snapping at its tail to herd it into place. It turned to swipe at the ‘wolf, screeching as Erica danced out of reach, and turned back to lunge at Laura- only to catch a face full of herbs and salt. It sputtered, rearing back to claw at its face, and Darcy turned her homemade flamethrower on it.

Everyone scrambled back as the fire exploded outward, engulfing the lamia and eating through the scaled hide that had made it so hard to wound.

Darcy left it to burn, trusting the others to keep an eye on it, and sprinted for the upstairs units. Cora, Peter, and Chris would clear the lower levels, but Santi had gone upstairs alone.

She took the stairs three at a time and ran for the sounds of a fight ahead. She rounded the corner, armband of runes glowing, and skidded to a surprised halt.

Fatima, a half-Fae fire wielder, grinned at Darcy over her shoulder, clothes and hijab perfectly in place and unmarred. Santi flicked his tail in satisfaction at her side, observing the scorch marks along the hall and inside the open doors and the burning vampires at their feet.

“Hi, Darcy. I cleared the roof and this floor.” Santi bumped his nose against her hand and blinked reproachfully up at her. “Sorry, I cleared the roof and _we_ cleared these rooms.”

Darcy bit back a laugh of sheer relief. “You’re okay?”

“Not a scratch on me,” Fatima said cheerfully. “Need help downstairs?”

“If you don’t mind.”

She shrugged. “It’s good stress release, really.”

“Finals week?” Darcy asked, sympathetic.

“And our final engineering project.” Fatima bounced down the steps and around the corner, headed for the fighting on the next floor down. “Fighting some crackhead vampires is just what I needed.”

She disappeared below, Santiago a dark shadow at her side. Darcy heard short barks of greeting from Cora and Peter, so she left them to it and returned to her apartment.

It looked as though a tornado of fire and a thousand gallons of dust had torn through it, she thought in dismay. But everyone was still standing, even if they were bloodied and breathing hard.

“Why a lamia, though?” Boyd was asking as she stepped carefully through the mess to join Bucky at the hole in the side of the building.

“They’re hard to kill and easy to lure,” Laura said with distaste. 

Bucky reached over, cupping Darcy’s face and scanning her quickly. “I’m good,” she promised. “Nothing I can’t fix. You?”

“Nothing you can’t fix,” he said, gesturing to where a small crowd had gathered outside to peer up at the damage. All supernaturals, she noted with relief, and all residents of the neighborhood.

Someone called out to her, so she leaned out to reassure them that everyone was okay. But as she leaned back in, thick green vines caught her attention, dug deep into the brick from one side of the building to the other.

“This is how they broke the wards,” she realized, tugging on a vine. She gave up when it didn’t budge, just released a shower of broken brick falling to the sidewalk below.

She and Stiles had worked the wards into the very foundation of the building, carved and hidden in the brick surface. No one would be able to locate the specific wards, not with the extent of the concealment runes they’d used, but targeting the entire building was one way around that. She knew without looking that the vines would be on every face of the building, dug deep into the sides.

“Hale,” Laura snapped into her phone, which had somehow survived being in her pocket throughout the fight. She listened for a moment, a scowl forming on her face, before hanging up. “That was Daredevil. Fisk is dead.”

“Vanessa must have made her move, then,” Darcy said, hands on her hips. “Has the rest of the pack checked in?”

“Yeah. Stiles was with Allison; they were hit, too. They’re both fine and on the way back. The kids are safe at daycare. No one went for them.”

“Because we warded the shit out of that place,” Darcy muttered. Anyone who entered the daycare would be entirely untraceable by technological or magical methods, ensuring the most vulnerable of their kind would be safe within.

“I thought you warded the shit out of this place,” Boyd said, kneeling on the floor to gently pry glass shards out of Erica’s paws.

“I did, but-” she froze as a thought occurred to her, and then looked around desperately for her phone. “Wait, _shit,_ if Vanessa sent this many vampires after us, then-”

“She probably went after Julian, too,” Laura finished, growling low in her throat as she spun for the door. “Let’s go!”

Darcy and Bucky ran after her, leaving Boyd and Erica. They ran into the others on the stairs, Peter bracing Cora on the steps and leaving enormous bloody paw prints behind them. Chris glanced up as they thundered down the stairs.

“We’ve got wounded, Laura.”

“Stiles is on his way,” she told him, pausing briefly to catch Cora’s muzzle in one hand and peer into her eyes, checking for a concussion. Cora licked her hand in reassurance and huffed at them, jerking her head towards the door.

“He’s five out,” she said over her shoulder, and tossed her phone to Darcy as she slid into the camaro parked out front.

“Thank god I made you ward this, too,” she muttered, brushing pieces of rubble off the undamaged hood.

Darcy had barely closed her door before Laura was speeding down the street, taking corners twenty miles faster than advisable and using her advanced reflexes to weave them through traffic at breakneck speeds.

Darcy dialed Julian’s phone three times in a row, cursing under her breath when there was no answer. She tried Nate next, Julian’s right hand man and best friend, knowing he wouldn’t have left Julian unguarded after they'd realized the extent of Vanessa’s ambitions.

“Come on, come on,” she said, barely noticing when Bucky had to clamp an arm around her to keep her from flying into the window as Laura spun the car around a 90 degree turn without slowing.

Her breath caught when the line clicked and someone breathing hard answered the phone.

“Nate?” She said, uncertain.

“Darcy,” he said, seeming to force the words out. “You need to get here. Now.” In the background, there was a deafening roar, and the call ended abruptly.

“Almost there,” Laura said through gritted teeth. Inferno came into sight just ahead, the doors appearing undamaged as the camaro lurched to a halt and they poured out of the car.

The club was soundproofed on a supernatural level. Darcy paused outside, one hand pressed to the door, Laura and Bucky at her back. She took a deep breath, pushed the doors open.

And stepped into a slaughter.


	19. Naomi: The Free City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise extra update with a surprise appearance of someone you probably aren't expecting... I definitely wasn't when I wrote this chapter lol

**19: THE FREE CITY**

_**Naomi** _

The sky turned dark and deep this far into the ocean, the inky depths of the water reflecting back two alabaster moons and endless, glittering stars so that it seemed they were entirely surrounded by nothing but an infinite abyss littered with luminous marbles rolling around on obsidian glass. Salty air filled her lungs, sharp on her tongue, the steady, rolling waves a soothing constant under unfamiliar constellations. 

Peace, Naomi realized. There was peace to be found here, here in the heart of the sea on a phantom ship. 

“There are things you need to know,” Linnea said as she hopped up onto the railing beside where Naomi and Vahid were seated, “before we reach Basharat.” 

Naomi glanced up from the speared fish in her hand, caught and cooked by the crew earlier that evening after the _Revenant_ had returned to the sea. Despite the limited resources found on a pirate ship, the cook had a surprisingly large stash of spices. A benefit from world-wide trade running, she supposed, and she certainly appreciated the flavor to the soft fish meat. 

Vahid very carefully didn’t look at her, but they were both wondering whether they’d finally learn the truth behind the attack three days ago. Linnea and the crew managed to evade any prying questions, ignored any inquisitive looks, but Naomi was certain now that something had happened, something that had left Linnea with only half of the preferred crew size to manage a ship the size of the _Revenant._

Without Ceren and Linnea’s strange ability to predict spots of trouble well in advance, it wouldn’t have been possible. 

“Basharat,” Linnea continued, “is known as The Free City. No sovereignty- not human, or shifter, or dragon, or other Beings- controls it. It’s a trade city, one with permanent neutrality agreements in place that apply to everyone who sets foot past the boundary line.” 

“Neutrality agreements?” Naomi asked, curious. 

“Magic-based, yeah. Otherwise this place would be ground zero for a world-wide war.” She noticed their surprise and explained. “The aquatic tribes don’t like anyone laying claim to the sea, even though they’ve arguably benefitted the most from having the heart of trade in their territory.” She shrugged. “Anyway, the point is, don’t start a fight with anyone or else I’ll leave your ass to the Basharat Sentries.” 

Vahid cocked his head. “The Basharat Sentries?” 

Linnea hummed as she stole a piece of fish off of Naomi’s kebab. “Fighters. The best of the best,” she said through a mouthful of food. “Probably the best trained warriors in the world. They guard Basharat and its peace agreement against whoever is stupid enough to start something.” 

“What’s their affiliation?” Naomi wondered. “Do they not have familial or clan ties?” 

“Basharat only accepts Sentries for training if they have no one else. No family, no clan or tribe, nothing. Most of ‘em are orphans off the city streets or the incoming ships. There are some who just left everyone behind, though, especially the few aquatic guards. The Sentries are put through the university there, trained in combat for years, and then assigned to a patrol route in the city.” 

Vahid sipped his wine- much cheaper than what they’d been given at the palace in Nova Solis, but it was better than nothing. “And there are enough who meet those qualifications to guard the entire city?” 

“More than you’d think,” Linnea said with a wry smile, running a hand through her hair. “Especially the aquatic guards. Their kind are banished from the tribes for minor offenses- including fraternizing with anyone outside of the tribe without explicit permission. Very messy politics under the sea. Lots of murder-related solutions to their problems and arguments.” 

“Avoid the aquatic tribes,” Naomi said, “point taken.” 

“And, uh, don’t talk to anyone else about who you are or why you’re here. Not even if they try to be your friend.” Linnea frowned, reconsidered. _“Especially_ if they try to be your friend. Lots of people want to stab me in the back, and they’d be happy to go through you to do it.” 

“Thank you, that’s very reassuring.” 

Linnea smiled with all of her teeth. “I try.” She leaped off the railing and sauntered away, calling over her shoulder, “Get some rest. We land tomorrow.” 

~*~ 

Basharat, from what Naomi could determine based on sight alone as they approached from the sea, existed on a large island in the center of the ocean. The roots of the city dug deep along the shores, built along the rocky border between land and sea, and branched its way onto the mainland with bright blossoms of shops and markets cropping up all along the winding paths that disappeared under towering trunks hosting the residential areas. 

The weather was bright and breezy, cooler in the morning suns with an enticing myriad of smells wafting through the air as they neared the city.

Linnea shouted orders from the upper deck as the crew scurried around like hunted mice desperate to escape the gaze of a cat, her voice so loud that it left Naomi’s ears ringing. 

“Cap is effin’ scrawny, but she can bellow like a damned Lankau,” someone muttered as they stomped by, hands clutching a mass of ropes to replace the frayed ones along the upper riggings. 

“With ears like a surakul,” someone else warned, making a flapping motion near their ears like that was supposed to mean anything. 

“Those terrible bat-like birds,” Vahid reminded her at a low murmur. “With the teeth.” Which _did_ finally remind her of the creepy vampire birds that primarily lived off of blood from their prey, a mouthful of hollow fangs designed both for a firm grip and bloodsucking. 

“Why do so many things _bite_ in this realm,” she grumbled. On the upper deck, Linnea grinned as though she’d heard. 

Flashes of light, which had long ago stopped being distracting, signaled Ceren’s instructions from their position atop the mast as they guided Linnea through the choppy waters and past other ships- most of which flew black sails emblazoned with an unfamiliar symbol. The sight of the flags seemed to make the rest of the crew quietly nervous, casting wary looks over their shoulders as the other hardened sailors watched them with unfriendly eyes. 

Naomi frowned, noticing that the pirate ships seemed to be entirely under one sail rather than the multitudes of colors and symbols she’d been expecting based off of her lessons with the Nakano. The open hostility gave her pause, too, as passing pirates sneered after the _Revenant._

But no one interfered with their steady progress to the docks, where ships of various sizes and types rested. Ceren leaped from the mast, floating gracefully to the deck to stand at Linnea’s side while the others tied to ship to the dock and dropped the ramp. Linnea signed to them, something that made the Wind Mage bristle and sign aggressively in return. From there it devolved to a fierce argument, one that Linnea eventually appeared to win.

Others began hauling trunks and bags out of the lower levels, piling it all near the ramp and waiting for the captain to assign them their duties. Naomi had forgotten that they still carried the Nakano goods to trade on behalf of the human clan. 

Linnea pulled on a black, long sleeved coat that fell past her hips to mid-thigh, the material rich and delicately embroidered. It looked expensive, clasping at the throat with a polished silver chain as the rest of the coat split open in the front for easy access to her pockets and sword.

“Split up, crews of three to the usual haunts. The Nakano list of supplies is with Ceren, who will be staying to guard the ship.” A quiet flicker of surprise showed in the gathered crew, which told Naomi that this was unusual- whether it was Ceren remaining behind or at the mention of a guard, she didn’t know. Ceren scowled out across the city but didn’t argue.

Linnea rested a hand on the hilt of her sword and continued. “Make the trade quickly and quietly. I want everyone back on board before nightfall.” 

“We aren’t staying a night or two?” Someone asked, confused. Another crew member elbowed them and rolled their eyes. 

“I have a feeling we won’t want to stay,” Linnea said darkly. “Just keep your mouth shut and stay away from the black sails. Am I clear?” Nods and muttered agreements, and then she jerked her chin to Ceren. “Get the lists, and stay with your group. We’re in and out today, kids.” 

“I’m older than you,” a scruffy, one-eyed man huffed, but he shook his head good-naturedly when she winked at him. 

“You two are with me,” Linnea said, turning to Naomi and Vahid. “We’re going to visit a contact of mine within the city, one that might know who hired those ships to take the Prime and where they may be going.” 

“Hired?” Vahid asked, trailing her down the steep ramp. He turned sideways to absently offer Naomi a hand on her way down, most of his focus still on Linnea’s words. “You think the ships were hired?” 

“I know they were,” the captain said matter-of-factly. “No pirate would ever attack Nova Solis otherwise. The reward or payment for that must have been astronomical.” 

“You know who it was,” Naomi said. It wasn’t a question. 

Linnea paused at the foot of the ramp, took a deep breath. “I have my suspicions. You’d just better hope that I’m wrong.” Without further explanation, she stalked into the teeming city streets. Naomi growled under her breath and followed, shoulder to shoulder with Vahid and Sayali trotting alongside. 

Some of her annoyance faded, overshadowed by awe the further into the city they traveled. They passed through a massive, breathtaking hall with a wide river spilling into the sea. This part of the city was half-buried underwater, the salty taste of the ocean mixing with the river’s clean, fresh water and filling the air with the combined scents. 

High above, making up the head of the dome, was a lattice of incredibly detailed metalworking and stained glass, hues of blue-green and red and gold spearing down from the windows and painting the diverse people with tinges of color that reflected differently off of everyone’s complexions. 

Most notably, though, were the scaled bodies rising partially out of the water, vaguely humanoid but with primary characteristics of some underwater creature. She saw one man with biceps the size of her head swimming easily through the crystal clear water, his lower body the shape of a shark tail and entirely covered in sleek sharkskin. Another aquatic tribe member, carrying a barbed spear the length of Naomi’s body, had the lower body of an octopus, orange and red and cream swirled together on each tentacle below an armored breastplate. 

Long, double jointed fingers caught the stone path ahead and pulled a woman with scaled skin and a blue-black tail partially out of the water, her purple hair plastered against the thick set of her shoulders as she presented a bag with squirming contents to a food vendor and accepted a gleaming red blade in return.

“The tribes have assigned traders,” Linnea said softly as they stepped around the woman- mermaid? Naomi didn’t know the correct term- and headed for the open city streets just ahead. “To minimize human or Being contact. Just steer clear of them all- they’re a touchy sort. Prone to drowning and eating anyone who offends them, if they can get you in the water before the Sentries see.” 

Naomi followed the pointed tilt of her head to the heavily armed guards flanking the doors to the giant dome. Their tunics were white, marked by a thick red stripe down the center of the shirt that fell to mid-thigh above charcoal grey leggings. The arms of their shirts were the same charcoal color, stretching from wrist to elbow- a bracer, she realized, made of something strong enough to withstand a blow from a blade. The same material stretched across their shoulders, pinning the long cape in place. 

A wide hood fell low over their brow, obscuring their masked faces. The masks were white, eerie under the play of shadows from the hood, and marked with blood red streaks- some in the shape of a claw diagonally across the mask, others in two lines straight down from forehead to chin, and fewer with a thick stripe over the eye holes. They must have some significance, though she couldn’t discern what, let alone what they looked like. The Sentries remained utterly ambiguous, not a single hint to their identities or race.

But she recognized the same stance in all of them- they were warriors, trained and tested and not to be fucked with. 

She tore her eyes from the Sentries as Linnea guided them out of the dome and into the streets. Rapid fire negotiations in languages she’d never heard before were fired between vendors and traders all around them, a dizzying cyclone of words and gestures. 

She heard sizzling cooking fires, could smell the mouth-watering meat and vegetables and sweets dispersed randomly throughout the market, the tangy-sweet aroma of unfamiliar fruits just as alluring as the vibrant splashes of color within the Weavers stands. Clothing stands with dresses worthy of a queen, fur-lined coats and boots, the slick waterproof material that the Nakano had sent from the raptor hides. 

Beads and jewelry glittered in the early morning sun- some of which, she noted with a spike of alarm, had layers of magic stored in the bright gems or smooth bone that suggested enchantments or spells- and magnificent headpieces almost made her stop until Linnea made a sound of exasperation and reached back to tug her along. 

They passed stands selling weapons crafted by master forgers, knives and bows and swords and axes, shields and bracers and a truly menacing spiked mace that was nearly as tall as the brawny woman who hoisted it with a look of approval before haggling over the price. Naomi spotted a few glowing blades with the Nakano symbol scattered amongst the vendors, likely traded during previous trips. 

The stall with potions and herbs and remedies she lingered at, though, eyes falling to the stalks and black flowers of Cobaena safely encased within a glass box with other poisons. The sign, read off by Linnea at her quiet request, promised that one crushed petal was capable of killing a full grown dragon. She slid her hand into Vahid’s and moved on.

Another stall offered monetary exchanges for the various currencies- at a price, of course. Naomi felt eyes on her back everywhere they went, on her and Vahid and the Arcos at her side. She couldn’t decide if it felt friendly or not, which made her nervous.

There were very few Arcos in the city that she could see, but she finally got a glimpse of the lethal Vasu cats in reinforced cages. They varied in size and color, though the majority possessed dark patterned fur and gleaming yellow eyes. The lighter colored Vasu, native to the cold mountains a thousand miles east, watched the milling crowds with green eyes hungry for violence. 

Birds squawked from their cages, many of them the brightly colored Ocak with their high pitched whistles and sharp beaks. The single raptor she saw was enormous, as large as Sayali, and heavily sedated. Double-horned creatures that looked like mountain goats on steroids screamed at each other from their cages, bashing their heads against the bars. 

A pair of Lankau snorted with alarm when a Vasu reached through the bars of its cage and swatted at them, knocking over a stall with a wayward trunk as it tried to shuffle out of reach. A small group of long-legged hares squeaked in indignant rage when the Lankau bumped into their cage.

But Linnea ignored the chaos, lifting a hand occasionally to the few vendors that recognized her and called out a greeting, not slowing to speak with any of them. Probably because they all watched Naomi and Vahid with undisguised interest. 

They left the busiest part of the city behind, heading for the older parts further inland where the buildings were stone and brick rather than wood. The stacks of buildings towered over them, casting the streets and their inhabitants in shadow. 

The air was cooler here, under the pillars of homes and shops and the watchful gazes of their owners. Most of the people moved confidently through the streets here, their faces concealed under thick hooded capes as they ducked through the crowds. Linnea ignored them all, though her hand still rested on the extravagant hilt of her sword. 

Sayali grumbled at a lean man watching them with bright eyes and nimble fingers from an alley, her tapered ears pinned to her head as she lifted a lip in warning. He abruptly decided there was somewhere else he needed to be. Sayali watched him go and then grinned up at Naomi, tongue lolling in satisfaction. 

Linnea paused outside a nondescript store, appeared to brace herself, and then pushed the thick wooden door open. 

Shelves lined the interior of the shop, which was much larger inside than the outside suggested. Naomi noticed the glittering items on the shelf nearby and frowned, felt as though something was… off. Obnoxiously gaudy baubles decorated the shelves, along with jewelry and the occasional weapon or item of clothing. Everything was overwhelmingly pretty and expensive-looking.

The man at the counter didn’t look up, just kept perusing a stack of withered papers with bizarre symbols painted on it in what looked very much like blood. 

Reassuring. 

“I’m surprised you’ve returned so soon,” he said casually, flipping a page. His skin was unnaturally white, pure as snow, and his hair even paler. “I thought you might want to let all those bad feelings fade a little first.” 

“Basharat is still neutral,” Linnea said, matching his tone even though her shoulders were stiff. “I have every right to be here.” 

“You do.” Finally, he looked up, studied her with milky white eyes that, despite their lack of an iris, seemed to work just fine. He cocked his head, a slow smile curling at his mouth as he said, “Though you should be aware the Wardens of Basharat have a vested interest in how this plays out.” 

It felt to Naomi as though a snake was offering to play, curious to see if its prey would indulge him.

Linnea narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “The Wardens should be careful who they fuck with. _I’m_ interested to find out who sent a fleet of seven ships after me.” 

The man’s smile curled. “Perhaps I know. Perhaps you already do, too.” 

Ah. She saw what was going on here. It was a trade, an offering of information in which the loser would be… what? The one with nothing left to give? Or the one who gave too much?

Linnea’s mouth tightened and she turned abruptly away to study the nearest counter. Naomi tracked her gaze, scowled again when her magic nagged at her- and then realized what it was trying to tell her. The anti-glamor rune on her thigh glowed through her leggings when she activated it with her spark, and the beauty of the shop was suddenly stripped away. 

The man behind the counter set his stack of papers down with a loud thump, practically quivering in place as he watched her peel away the glamor inside the shop. Vahid tilted his head with feline interest, tracking the stranger’s every move as Sayali settled on her haunches next to the dragon, apparently in agreement that this stranger needed watching. Linnea looked between the man and Naomi, brow furrowed. 

But Naomi’s focus was on the contents of the shelves. They still contained magic, curses and enchantments and fuck knows what else, only the objects were no longer pretty baubles and gems. Instead small, perfectly rounded oval stones of varying sizes and colors decorated the shelves. 

“Why the glamor?” Naomi asked, squinting at a vibrating green stone. She wrinkled her nose when the magic reached for her- cleverly charmed to hide the wearer’s perceived imperfections- and batted it gently back. 

The man opened his mouth, closed it. Cleared his throat. Tried again. “You can see through the glamor?” 

She turned to him, taking in the same milky white eyes and short silvery blue hair. Only this time when she looked at him, his skin was a dark shade of shimmery blue, his ears sharply pointed, and wearing a headpiece that wrapped around the back of his head and arched above his forehead, ending with two fiercely sharp points. 

She studied it, noting that it looked very much like a crown as it pulsed with a dangerous blue light, floating delicately around his head without touching him. His skin was painted with glowing white lines and symbols, marking a beautiful face made of razor-sharp angles and hollows. 

“I can,” she answered slowly, her hindbrain sitting up and squawking about danger. She wondered… had any of the Fae come, too, when the dragons left earth behind? “Are you… Are you _Fae?_ Why are you here, and not in your own realm?”

“I have not heard that term in an age, Lady Spark.” Soft blue light swallowed the white of his eyes, then vanished again when he swallowed. “The few Fae who followed the dragons to this realm cannot reach our homeland any longer. The gates here, if there ever were any, have dissolved.” 

“You know what I am?” She wondered when all the tension in the air would finally break, snapped between them like a dry twig. 

“Very few are capable of seeing past my magic.” He settled back against the counter, arms crossed as though he’d found his composure again. “Are you from earth, then, I wonder?”

“Information is a trade as good as any other,” Linnea told Naomi suddenly, casually inspecting a tiny black dagger that shrilled indignantly at her until she set it back down. “Proceed wisely, Lady Spark. I’m going to shop around.” 

“Everything comes with a price,” the man warned her, ominous. 

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know, that’s how shops work, Avis.” Vahid barely stifled a laugh. 

Naomi shoved her hands into her pockets and studied the Fae, concern rising as she took stock of the quiet power radiating from him. Whoever- whatever- he was, he was strong. As strong as one of the Fae Queens, even. His magic felt cold and harsh, like winter sunlight on an endless world of ice.

“You were a ruler of the Fae back in your own realm,” she guessed. “Before the Seelie Queen’s ash and blood reign, or after?” 

Avis’s eyes widened briefly in shock, but he covered it well. “You know of my mother?” 

Naomi went numb.

Oh, holy fucking shit, this man was the Seelie Queen’s son. Possibly even her firstborn, and certainly born centuries before Darcy’s beloved Jane Foster was conceived. Which also meant that he was Jane’s brother. 

Jane, who was now the Unseelie Queen of the Fae realm. 

Well. This was turning out to be a shit storm of epic proportions. 

“I’ve run across her a time or two,” she said carefully. “It was, uh…” 

A smile flitted across his full mouth. “A terrible experience, I’m sure.” He eyed her, a snake coiled once more in preparation. “You seek the dragon Prime, taken from Nova Solis nearly one lunar cycle ago.” 

She took a careful breath, readying herself for the game. “You seek information on the Fae realm and your family.” The word family gave him pause, she could tell, a sudden bolt of awareness making those eerie white eyes widen. She’d struck a nerve there, but she’d correctly guessed his motivations and so the game would continue. 

“The human ships were hired to kidnap the Prime.” 

Naomi raised a brow. Well, that was hardly news. She responded in kind. “Your mother ruled the Seelie Court for centuries.” He scowled at her, so she shrugged and said, “What? I thought we were stating the obvious.” 

She saw Linnea’s quick, approving grin as the captain wandered nearby. 

“Ruled?” Avis asked. She smiled blandly at him, enjoying his quiet huff of annoyance and resignation. “Fine. It is possible that the captain of these ships purchased the invisibility glamor from my shop. I might have overheard things.” 

That explained the ships’ uncanny ability to pass through Nova Solis unseen during the attack. Helpful information, promising even, but nothing groundbreaking. 

“A banshee took multiple gates from your mother’s grasp and held them in Hale Pack territory.” She saw a quick gleam of satisfaction in his eyes at this information, and made a note that there was no love lost between Avis and the Seelie Queen.

“A pack of wolves? Yes, I suppose they would be a sufficient grounding force. Interesting.” He considered her for a moment, and then said, “A human clan hired the ships to take the Prime for them.” 

She hid a wince. Things were going to get ugly if the humans were moving against Nova Solis. “Your mother tried to move against earth multiple times in the past ten years. She failed every time, thanks to another spark from earth.” 

“Besides the aquatic tribes who will kill any trespassers in their waters, there are a number of magical traps waiting for you, should you try to follow the ships carrying the Prime. Directly tracking them is inadvisable.” 

“The Unseelie Queen opened a Hellmouth on earth and brought a Leviathan through.” Avis’s brows lowered, wondering at the shift in topic, but Naomi was gearing up for the sibling reveal, quietly worried about his reaction. 

He glanced at Linnea almost apologetically, and then said, “A human clan hired Captain Arielle Harada, specifically, to kidnap the Prime and bring him to their territory in order to destabilize Nova Solis.” 

Naomi sucked in a breath, heard Vahid’s angry hiss, and then realized Linnea had frozen in place at Avis’s words, staring blindly at the shelf in front of her. She watched Linnea’s breathing grow short and shallow before sharing her own information, hoping he’d been truthful about remaining out of reach of the Fae realm.

“The Seelie Queen’s daughter defeated the Unseelie Queen in direct combat and took her place as a ruler of the realm.” Avis’s face went blank with shock. “And she later joined forces with that same spark to take your mother down as well. The banshee is now the Seelie Queen, and the realm is being put to rights again.” She hoped so, anyway. 

“The Seelie Queen’s… daughter?” Avis asked faintly. 

“Yes. Your sister. Or half sister, I guess.” 

He waved a hand weakly, still shell-shocked by the revelation. “Half siblings are irrelevant to the Fae. If you share one parent, you are kin.” He touched his fingertips to the headpiece floating around his forehead. It hummed at his touch. “My… sister. Is she like our mother?” 

“The antithesis, actually. She outsmarted and outfought everyone your mother sent after her for decades.” Naomi took a chance, knowing they needed a little more to go on and hoping he’d reciprocate. “She can also create Fae gates at will, at least between earth and the Fae realm.” 

Avis looked as though she’d punched him in the mouth. Staggered, is what he looked like. As if she’d just rocked the foundation of his entire world. 

Finally, he rasped, “The Sokolov clan has convened at Santari for whatever they have planned.” 

Linnea was pale and subdued when she asked with obvious disbelief, “Santari? Why would they go there? It’s a city of ghosts and not much else.” 

“Precisely.” Avis blinked rapidly, visibly recovering from Naomi’s news. “No one to see what they’re up to, and the only place within their reach that contains a prison capable of holding a dragon Prime.” 

“Santari?” Naomi asked. She vaguely recognized the name, having heard it at some point in her lessons.

Linnea was chewing her lower lip raw. “Centuries ago, well before the creation of Nova Solis, the dragons lived on a massive island called Santari. But the aquatic tribes moved in, wanting to take more territory for themselves. They started wrecking the trade ships that came through, sinking anyone who got too close, blocking the trade routes so that the humans couldn’t trade, either.” 

After which, she presumed, the forever innovative humans built their flying ships. 

“By the time the first flying ship- designed and built by Jaku Banerji, an engineer from Basharat- was capable of flight, though, the dragons had been forced to relocate. They couldn’t even hunt in the seas any longer, after the aquatic tribes lured in the sea serpents and a couple kraken.” 

“Sargon evacuated his city?” Vahid frowned. “I suppose that makes sense, based on the talks in the council. The relationships with the tribes are… strained, to say the least.” 

“Those bastards want to rule everything,” Linnea said with a sigh. “Their culture is based on war, and the rest of us are just future subjects in their way.” 

Naomi made a noise of confusion. “I thought they mostly left non-aquatic Beings alone.” 

“They used to,” Avis said. “But now they’ve battled each other into the sea floor, and the victors want more. They’ve been pushing lately.” 

“Could they be involved in the kidnapping?” 

She wondered if Avis would offer the information freely. It seemed she’d won some good will, because he gave a fluid shrug and said, “Doubtful, but who knows these days.” He glanced at Linnea. “As for the humans, though…” 

“I know,” Linnea said quietly. Her knuckles were white around the hilt of her sword. “I know it was her.” 

“A word of advice, freely given,” Avis told her, “don’t go head to head with Harada. Not again. You will lose, and I would regret seeing the only intelligent pirate captain I know die on the sea.” 

“She isn’t invincible,” she snapped. 

“No, she is not.” He cocked his head. “Have you finally discovered her weakness, then? Do you know how to face her and win? Because she knows yours, Captain, and she will use them against you without hesitation.” 

Questions burned at Naomi’s heels, the demand for answers growing along with her frustration at being kept in the dark. This, though, she realized when Linnea remained utterly silent, was something personal. 

But still relevant to their journey, and definitely relevant to Darius’s kidnapping. 

Avis looked to Naomi after briefly studying Vahid. “I would greatly appreciate it if you returned one day, Lady Spark. Assuming your mission is successful, of course.” 

“I… might,” she said, surprised to find that she meant it. This Fae Prince was important, she could tell. Besides, she supposed it could be viewed as diplomacy, making friends with the Unseelie Queen’s brother. Not that Jane would know, but what could it hurt? Naomi pretended not to know the answer to that- _everything-_ and made for the door. 

Time for answers, from Linnea this time. 

She paused, though, and glanced back over her shoulder as Vahid held the door open for her. “You never told me what all the glamor was for.” 

Avis grinned, his lovely features set alight with the smile. “People come to me for magic, Lady Spark. And most of them expect it to be pretty.” She smiled at the truth to the statement and left.

Linnea seemed to know an inquisition was coming, because she veered left and aimed for a run-down bar down the street. 

“You know this Arielle Harada person,” Naomi said, on her heels. 

“And what is happening with the pirates, whatever has the Wardens of Basharat so interested,” Vahid added. 

“I do.” Linnea sighed, ran a hand through her short hair and kicked the bar door open. “But I’m going to need a drink or six before I talk about it.” 


	20. Darcy: Inferno

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It still counts as Sunday because I haven't gone to sleep yet :)
> 
> I've been binging Avatar the Last Airbender and losing track of the hours and days because of it lol.

**20: INFERNO**

_**Darcy** _

The scent of blood hit her first, cloying and thick and lingering in the back of her throat so that every breath tasted of copper. She heard Laura and Bucky’s sharp, surprised inhales at the sight before them.

Inferno was a bloodbath. Shattered glass from the bar sparkled under the low red lights, strewn across the black marbled floor and coated in blood. The tables and chairs were broken into splinters, some of them apparently utilized during the fight.

The damage was as catastrophic as her own home, made worse by the complete emptiness within that made the club feel like a tomb.

Laura caught her arm, eyes burning Alpha red as she cocked her head, tracking the source of noise to Julian’s office upstairs.

“Voices, from his office,” she said lowly. “I go first.”

Darcy didn’t bother arguing. She let her sister approach the office on silent feet, stepping around pools of blood seeped into the carpet lining. Bucky was a steady warmth at her back, watching for any threats below.

Slowly, silently, Laura pushed the door open a few inches so that the voices drifted out. With it came something dark and furious, a grave magic that made Darcy shiver violently. Bucky touched her hip, concerned, but she waved him off and inched closer to the door to peer through the crack.

A cluster of vampires knelt in ash, heads bowed under the strain of the angry pulse of magic hovering within the office. At the center stood Julian, eyes black and monstrous, veins blackened and fangs bared in the eerie red light. He was breathing hard, tangled blond hair falling past his shoulders and stained red. His arms were coated in blood up to the elbow, rips in his shirt revealing deep scratches marring the skin beneath.

Vanessa Marianna bared her fangs at him from her position on the floor, one arm bent at an unnatural angle and sporting a number of significant wounds.

“Do you think it only chance, that I’ve lived this long?” Julian was asking, harsh and furious. “Chance, that I have the power and influence that I do?”

He loomed over her. “I scraped and clawed my way to the top of the underworld. I’ve fought for it. Bled for it. Killed for it.” Julian crouched in front of her, balanced almost casually within range of her teeth. “I am King for a reason, Vanessa. Your little coup was doomed from the start.”

“Your friends aren’t so invincible,” Vanessa said, taunting. “That pack of mutts and the bitch spark you call friends.”

His eyes, impossibly, went darker. “You sent vampires after my friends?” His voice was silky, dangerous. It sent chills down Darcy’s arms to hear it.

Vanessa grinned at him around her fangs. “As many as I could spare, which turned out to be quite a lot.”

“Nate?” Julian asked with a undertone of carefully controlled violence, not looking away from Vanessa’s smug face.

Laura glanced back and winked at them, then shoved the door wide before Nate could even lift his head. “You’ll have to do better than handful of untrained vampires, I’m afraid,” she said cheerfully, barging right through the tension in the room.

Vanessa’s face slackened in shock at the sight of her. Julian looked past Laura to find Darcy, relief and something else, something unreadable, crossing his expression, gone too fast for her to decipher.

“A handful-” Vanessa sputtered.

“The lamia was a nice touch, though. Haven’t seen one of those in years.”

“The lamia,” Julian repeated flatly.

“And she had a druid break my wards,” Darcy added, leveling Vanessa with an unimpressed stare. “Its seems she’s been making friends.”

“Druids?” Julian asked, startled. “What druid would work with a vampire?

Nate glanced up at Darcy when she frowned. “Most think we’re abominations, and they aren’t afraid to say it.” He looked no better than Julian, coated in blood and strained around the eyes from whatever strange magic Julian was wielding. His fangs pricked his lower lip as he spoke. He didn’t seem to notice.

“I didn’t know that,” she said, looking to Julian.

He kept his attention on Vanessa, who was shifting uncomfortably on the floor as though invisible chains were holding her in place. “The traditional druids want us gone, permanently. Which makes me wonder where you found a druid strong enough to break a spark’s wards who was also willing to work with a vampire.”

“They found me,” she said tightly, hands curled into fists as she writhed in pain.

Darcy felt the heavy pressure in the air zero in on Vanessa, that strange grave magic dark and dangerous and entirely unfamiliar to her.

“Is that so?” Julian asked softly. “How convenient, they they came across a vampire planning a coup.” Vanessa sneered wordlessly back and said nothing more.

“You think this is tied to the druid assassin or the attack on our place?” Bucky asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” Darcy said, frustrated. “Nothing’s making sense.” And it felt as though they were discovering enemies on all sides, hit when and where they least expected it. Were all these attacks by the same druid, or something bigger hiding in the shadows?

“Give me some time,” Julian offered, standing gracefully to tower over Vanessa. Some of the tension bled out of the room, the vampires on their knees suddenly breathing easier. “I’ll find out what she knows.”

He moved so fast Darcy didn’t realize anything had changed until there was a crack and Vanessa slumped over, unmoving. The sudden violence of it made her swallow hard, unused to this side of her friend.

Julian still hadn’t looked at her, she thought with some trepidation. She wondered what he was thinking as he watched Nate and two others carry Vanessa out of the room.

“She’ll wake in a few hours,” he said, gaze on the blood streaked along the walls and pooled on the carpet. His hair had dried in clumps, blood staining the usual bright blond and fusing it into crimson tangles that fell past his shoulders.

“Glad you’re still undead,” Laura quipped, though her face was serious.

“I was expecting her,” he admitted. “She’s not as clever as she believes she is. It was easy enough to nudge her along so that she came at me how I expected.”

“If she hadn’t split her forces, she’d have had us,” Nate said as he returned, scrubbing a hand through his curls.

“Yes. I wonder if her new druid ally had any part in that.”

Laura made for the door. “I’m going to check on Daredevil. She sent a couple vamps after him, too, so there might be damage control to do there.”

Bucky was examining the carnage throughout the room, evidence of a massacre smeared all over the walls and ceiling and squishing beneath their feet. “Do you have cleaners for this?” He asked, making a face as a drop of blood fell from the chandelier onto his shoulder.

“A team of witches,” Julian told him, frowning as he walked over to assess the shattered bar. “They’re expensive, but all supernatural cleaners are.”

Not cleaners as in maids, Darcy knew, but cleaners as in people with a particular skillset that involved hiding evidence of supernatural messes and the collateral damage from said messes. The compound had a few as well, a mix of witches and Fae that could make a murder scene look like a pleasant meadow to human senses.

He still hadn’t looked at her. She crossed her arms, uncertain with the sudden distance he’d put between them, and watched him closely.

A remaining piece of the shattered mirror behind the bar caught his reflection, just for an instant, but she caught sight of the black swallowing his eyes and realized why he wouldn’t face her.

“I’ve never seen that kind of magic before,” Darcy said, testing the waters. “The… grave magic, or whatever it was.”

“Only a few of us can wield it,” he said, keeping his back to her. “And only for a short period of time. It’s part of the magic that keeps us alive, or as close to it as we can get. As King, I can draw on the magic from my lineage and those under my rule.”

Which was why, she presumed, the vampires had looked fresh out of tomb when they’d arrived.

“Sounds dangerous.”

“Very. Take too much and you’ll burn them out, leaving only dried out husks behind. But I needed something extra to keep her contained after the attack.”

“Is that why your eyes are like that?” She asked, carefully neutral. Bucky, who knew her well enough to understand she was aiming for something here, did that weird thing where he faded into the background without actually moving.

Julian’s head bowed. “It will fade.”

She stepped carefully through the room, dodging pieces of the ruined furniture. He tensed with every step, angling his face away from her as he hunched over the broken counter.

Gently, she settled a hand on his back, between his shoulder blades, asked, “Why are you hiding from me?”

He took a deep breath. “This is not something I ever wanted you to see.”

“Why?”

“There are parts of myself and my kind that I’ve… hidden purposely from you.” His reflection in the cracked mirror showed a wry, pained smile. “Our truth isn’t as romantic as shifting into giant wolves or wielding incredible magics. We are monsters through and through.”

Darcy watched him in the mirror. Saw his exhaustion and fear of rejection. Saw a self-hatred that went bone deep. And realized that it had been regret that she’d seen on his face earlier, regret that she’d seen him like this.

She looked at the black veins creeping along his skin, his face, the obsidian eyes that seemed to swallow all the light in the room. Streaks of blood marring his beautiful face. The deadly fangs on full display.

The face of a monster.

She didn’t flinch, didn’t balk as he slowly lifted his eyes. Instead she smiled, and let her own eyes burn gold. Let the magic inside her rise, lighting her face and casting severe shadows that made her look inhuman. Terrifying, even.

She thought of the werewolves and druids and Fae and spark that made up her family, the super-humans that had been so neatly enveloped into their ranks. The way many of them struggled with those monstrous parts of themselves. The peace that came with the realization that ‘monster’ usually just meant ‘not human,’ and that was a far easier thing to accept.

“We’re all monsters here, Julian.” In the corner of the mirror, she saw Bucky smile, dark and beautiful as he rested comfortably in the shadows. “You don’t scare me.”

It wasn’t a threat or a promise, but an assurance. It was honesty when he needed it most, someone finding him at his worst and not flinching, not judging.

His next breath was shaky sigh.

She watched the tension bleed out of his body and felt a pang of affection for him, her friend through so many dangers. He’d been at her back for years, an unwavering support that she’d come to rely on as much as any of her other family members.

He would give everything if she asked, long before she’d ever earned that kind of loyalty.And while he obviously didn’t know how to make friends the normal way (i.e.: their first two meetings), he was someone her whole pack had come to count on as well. He’d been a bit bemused to have an entire pack of nosy werewolves suddenly integrate themselves into his life, but they were important to her and so they were important to him.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

“That’s what family’s for, right?” She asked, smiling softly when he turned to her in surprise.

“Don’t get excited,” Bucky drawled from behind them. “This family’s fucking weird.” There was affection laced in his words, and plenty of exasperation, too.

“Ignore him,” Darcy advised, patting Julian on the arm. “He’s just jealous he can’t turn into a wolf, too.”

“A little,” Bucky admitted, crossing the room to join them. “It’s pretty cool having them as family, though, except for how they all break into your house on a daily basis.”

“They do that already,” Julian said, mouth curling at the edges.

Bucky shook his head, reaching for the sink to test the tap. “Nah, Laura’s instated a pack-wide mandate to keep an eye on you but not drive you completely insane. That’s going out the window after today.”

Julian looked a little worried at that. Before he could vocalize any sort of protest, though, Bucky tugged him gently over to the sink and guided his hands underneath the water. Darcy bracketed Julian’s other side and helped clean the flakes of dried blood off of his arms.

“So, who was this?” She wondered, marveling at the blood that stretched from Julian’s hands to elbows like a gruesome pair of gloves. “Looks like you had one hell of a grudge against them.”

“You could say that,” Julian said, watching the water turn pink as it pooled around the sink drain. She looked expectantly up at him, waiting, while Bucky dumped half the bottle of soap on Julian’s arms and nodded in satisfaction when the blood slicked off easily.

“Vanessa had a couple old vampires with her,” he said blankly. “One of them… well. We had a history.”

“What kind of history?” She asked, ripping his sleeve when it plastered against his bicep and revealed a slowly healing wound. She frowned at it, taking a moment to glance over the rest of him, and leaned behind them to examine the miraculously intact mini fridge that held blood bags.

Grateful that she wasn’t the squeamish sort, she plucked a metal straw from a drawer dangling from its hinges and stabbed it through a plastic blood bag like she’d seen him do once during their occasional drunken nights hanging out in his office.

Julian accepted it when she shoved it into his hands, staring blankly at the stream of water in a way that meant he was caught up in his head.

“Julian?” She prompted, taking a dishtowel from Bucky and wiping her hands clean.

Julian clutched his morbid vampire Capri Sun to his chest. “That vampire, Rochefort, and I shared a maker.”

Darcy blinked at Bucky, who shrugged. Neither of them had ever heard Julian breathe a word about his maker.

“Our maker was… a true monster. The worst our kind had to offer. She reveled in hurting people smaller and weaker, the prettier the better.”

Darcy’s stomach sank. She had a feeling she knew where this was going.

Julian continued. “Vampire venom has odd effects on those we bite. You’ve seen it before.” She nodded- most of Julian’s very willing harem offered their blood freely, enjoying the high the venom gave them.

“This means that consent gets complicated with humans. Generally, we don’t bite those who want to sleep with us. Emotions get all mixed up, even for the rare few like me who don’t have any interest in sex. On the humans’ side, it’s… intense. You lose all sense of time, and it’s a kind of high that you won’t find anywhere else.”

“Enthrallment,” Darcy murmured.

Julian nodded. “That’s likely where that concept originated. They are especially susceptible in this state, willing to do anything one might suggest.”

“Even,” he said, swallowing hard, eyes dark and focused inward, “have sex when you don’t wish to, with no understanding of why you’re doing what you they tell you to.”

He was quiet for a long moment, so utterly still in such an inhuman way that it gave her chills. Darcy reached out, unable to help it, and wrapped a gentle hand around his wrist.

He blinked, coming back to himself. He stared down at his blood bag and admitted, “It’s how I was turned.”

Across from her, Bucky closed his eyes. Julian cleared his throat. “I didn’t realize what she was, at first, when she picked me out of a roomful of people. But she was wealthy and powerful and beautiful and, well, I was only one of those things.”

“She took advantage,” Darcy said, rage coiling in her chest.

“In more ways than one,” Julian agreed. “By the time I realized what she was and tried to escape, I’d been bitten and forced to drink her blood many times over. She killed me after my first escape attempt, and I turned. I succeeded on the next attempt, a few years later. Barely.”

“Years?” Darcy whispered, horrified. He’d spent years being tortured by some psycho vampire on a power high?

“It took some time for her to forget. She was very offended that I didn’t appreciate her gift.”

Bucky frowned. “So your maker also turned the vampire who helped attack you today? Is she still alive?” Darcy heard the question he hadn’t asked- _do we need to fix that?-_ and felt a surge of dark agreement.

“No, she’s very dead. Permanently. Ironically, Vanessa was the one to help me kill her, a couple hundred years ago. She brought Rochefort today because she knows how to hurt me.”

Darcy made a wounded sound, but Julian shook his head. “It wasn’t like that. Rochefort and I weren’t friends. He was entirely too much like our maker.”

Julian gestured to the fine coating of ash on the office carpet. “All of those Vanessa turned were young, new vampires with no training. She let the bloodlust take them, so they were on a power high and harder to kill.”

“And stupid, right?” Bucky asked, cocking a hip against the counter. “The ones who attacked us didn’t fight like I’d expected. If not for the sheer numbers, it would have been an easy fight.”

“And the lamia,” Darcy chimed in.

“And the lamia,” he agreed.

Julian rubbed at his forehead and said with sheer disbelief, “A lamia. Honestly.”

“Bloodlust makes vampires crazy,” Darcy said, recalling a fight she’d had with one early on in her days in New York. He’d been young and hungry, driven by a need for blood that had made him wild and reckless.

“Yes. The newly turned vampires have to be carefully guided through their first feedings, or they’ll lose control and start a killing spree that they’ll never regain control from. We have very strict rules on who is allowed to be a maker, for precisely that reason.”

“Are you a maker?” Bucky wondered.

“Yes. I very rarely turn someone, though. Young vampires are exhausting.”

“Is Nate one of yours?” Darcy asked, hearing the vampire in question calling out orders from downstairs.

A smile crossed Julian’s face. “No. Nate and I crossed paths a few years after I escaped my maker. He was the most infuriatingly laid back vampire I’d ever met. It drove me crazy.”

“You were still being hunted by your psycho bitch maker,” Nate said fondly from the doorway. He’d changed into a clean shirt and pants, though blood still splattered his brown skin and hair. “Everything drove you crazy. You aren’t so high strung anymore, though.”

“Yes, thank you,” Julian said dryly.

Darcy and Bucky watched as Nate took over, bullying Julian into drinking his blood bag and one more for good measure, cheerfully maneuvering the conversation into lighter territory as he gave them an upbeat rundown on the damages.

Sensing he was in good hands, they retreated to the other side of the office to straighten the few pieces of furniture that had survived.

“This place is a bloodbath,” Bucky muttered as Nate badgered Julian into a clean set of clothes. “Should we send our cleaners?”

“I bet they’re already at Iron Heights. If Julian’s team can’t make it here soon, we’ll see if our team can stop by later and get the worst of it before it becomes irreparable.”

Bucky’s phone buzzed, reminding her that hers was probably smashed to pieces somewhere in her apartment. She sighed.

“Boyd says everything’s okay back home,” he read, “and everyone is either unharmed or healed, but that he can’t get the cat out of our closet.”

“Oh, god,” Darcy said. “We traumatized our cat.”

“We didn’t,” Bucky muttered angrily as he typed a reply. “The stupid vampires did.”

“What about the other apartments?” Darcy asked worriedly. “The wards are down, and if they have damage like ours does…”

“Stiles is on it,” he reported. “Stark’s got space at the tower for everyone until we can fix the damages. Stiles also says that Stark has tried calling you and is getting antsy about the lack of response.”

Darcy sighed. “Text him to let him know we’re okay and will be at the tower soon.” They needed to check on Rowan, anyway.

She turned to look for Julian, finding him in quiet conversation with Nate behind the bar. To her surprise, Nate had a hand on Julian’s hip, speaking softly while Julian ducked his head, a small smile curling at the corners of his mouth.

She nudged Bucky urgently in the side with an elbow, shooting a grin up at him. He rolled his eyes at her. “Now who’s nosy?”

Darcy widened her eyes. “Oh, no, they’re rubbing off on me. You know, I kind of get it now. It’s much more fun on the other side of the teasing and invasiveness.”

“What is?” Julian asked, coming over.

Bucky curled an arm around her and wrapped his hand over her mouth before she could answer. “Don’t worry about it.” He ignored Darcy’s wriggling and noises of protest beneath his hand. He also remained unaffected when she licked his hand.

Julian looked between them with raised brows. “If you say so.”

“You’ll thank me later,” Bucky assured him. “As for now, we’ve got to get to the tower and make sure everyone from Iron Heights made it safely.”

“Of course.” Julian shifted on his feet, looking between them with an open, sincere expression. “Thank you both, for everything. And I’m sorry that my business affected you this badly.”

Darcy zapped Bucky in the wrist with a little flicker of magic. He twitched, dropping his hand to rest across her collarbones instead. “Don’t apologize. It’s not like you haven’t been dragged into our bullshit multiple times.”

“Yeah, remember the ghoul uprising?” Bucky asked.

 _“Do_ I.” She waved a hand dismissively. “Besides, I think our problems might be connected this time, Julian. Which means we can take partial responsibility for it, if you’d like.”

“I think I’ll let the blame rest where it belongs, with Vanessa and her co-conspirators,” Julian said, but he sounded amused.

Downstairs, the team of witches finally arrived to start destroying evidence of the fight. A young man skidded to a halt just inside the door, barely avoiding the body that fell from the chandelier. “Oh, fuck me sideways!”

Nate grinned down at him. “Don’t do anything, that’s one of ours!” He called over the railing, then glanced back at them. “It’s Turner. Just desiccated, by the looks of it.”

“Desiccated?” Bucky asked skeptically.

“Drained of all blood. But still able to be revived, if he ingests blood in time,” Julian explained, frowning up at the ceiling. “I suppose we should inspect the upper levels more thoroughly.”

“We’ll leave you to it,” Darcy said, wrinkling her nose. She had no desire to go picking through the beams and walkways of the club’s upper levels in search of half-undead vampires.

“I’ll call you once I have a chance to interrogate Vanessa. Stay safe,” he said, and carefully closed the doors of Inferno behind them.

~*~

“You look like you picked a fight with a hurricane and lost,” Tony said flatly when she and Bucky walked into the tower. They looked down at themselves, both covered in blood and a fine layer of ash, their clothing ripped and torn in various places. She didn’t even want to think about what her hair looked like.

“You’re not that far off, really,” she said, remembering the chaos within her apartment.

“If hurricanes had teeth,” Bucky muttered sullenly, examining a bite mark on his arm.

“Did everyone-”

“Yes, they’re here, set up in apartments a couple floors down,” Tony said, waving her concern away. “Has anyone looked at you since the fight?”

“Uh…” She pointed uncertainly at Bucky.

“He means a doctor, doll,” Bucky said. “And no. We were distracted by a massacre at Inferno.”

“Julian’s club?” Tony asked sharply. “Someone attacked him?”

Darcy glanced over her shoulder, fishing through Tony’s living room in search of a pen. “Yeah, the other half of the vampire army.”

“Vampire army?” Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. “No one tells me anything around here, I swear to god.”

“It’s fine, dad,” she said soothingly, patting him on the arm as she returned to Bucky’s side and crooked a finger at him. He obediently gave her his arm, smiling down at her.

“Is that a bite mark?” Tony snapped from behind her, hovering at her shoulder and glowering at the bloody mark left behind from the vampire that had had the bright idea to try chewing on her.

“Vampires,” she reminded him, activating the healing rune on Bucky’s wrist and watching his wounds heal with satisfaction. She lifted his arm and pressed a kiss to his open palm. “There, good as new.”

He jerked his chin at her. “Now you.”

Her own healing rune glowed brightly through a rip in her shirt sleeve, warming her whole body as the aches and pains faded away.

“You know, I hate to say this,” she told Bucky while Tony hyperventilated somewhere behind her, “but maybe you need a healing rune tattoo, too.”

“Probably a good idea,” he admitted. He looked at Tony and cocked his head. “Your dad’s getting hysterical.”

She turned to find him pacing, muttering under his breath and tapping away at light speed on a small holographic pad. She snatched it away from him. “You’re not building me a suit.”

“Someone tried to _eat_ you,” he said, whirling around.

“Not the first time,” she told him calmly, “and probably not the last. I’m fine, Dad. The pack had my back, like always.”

“You’re getting alarms built into the apartment,” he threatened. “So many alarms, and they’re all going to be monitored by Jarvis. The next time someone sends a… an undead army or whatever after you, I’m dropping the Hulk on them!”

Darcy shrugged. “I won’t say no to alarms,” she said reasonably. “Gonna have to veto the Hulk, though.”

“Didn’t the pack tell you what happened?” Bucky asked. “I thought you said they’re all downstairs.”

“They said it was a minor scuffle!”

“Twenty bucks says that was Cora,” Darcy said in an undertone to Bucky, who had to stifle a grin.

Overhead, Jarvis politely cleared his throat, or whatever the AI equivalent was of trying to subtly get the room’s attention. “Miss Wells wished to speak with you both upon your return.”

Darcy hugged Tony, refusing to let go until some of the manic tension faded from his face. “I’m okay. Promise.”

He breathed out slowly and hugged her back. “Fine. But I’m allowed to worry when my daughter narrowly escapes death. Again.”

“You are,” she assured him. “But you should also remember I have a pack of giant wolves who will eat anyone who tries to kill me.” He made a pained sound. They left him in the living room, reclined on the couch like some sort of fainting Victorian maiden.

The medical floor was mostly quiet, to her relief. That meant Stiles had been able to heal everyone who’d needed it.

The doors to Rowan’s room whooshed open at their approach. Imani, sitting in a chair beside the bed, and the dark-haired figure on the bed looked up.

Imani gaped at them. “What happened to you?!”

“Vampires,” Darcy said brightly. “And a lamia.”

“Oh,” Imani said faintly. “That sounds… fun?”

“Not in the slightest,” Bucky said tiredly, collapsing into one of the chairs along the wall.

“I’ll explain later,” Darcy promised, then turned her attention to the serious and striking witch on the bed. “Rowan, it’s nice to finally meet you. How are you feeling?”

Rowan lifted a shoulder in a tiny shrug. “Like I’m still on death’s door.”

“You’re not on death’s door,” Imani said sternly, clasping Rowan’s hand between her own. “Frolicking on his lawn, maybe. Close enough to worry a little, I guess.”

Rowan coughed a weak laugh. “But not about to drop dead.”

“Don’t even joke,” Imani threatened. She smoothed Rowan’s long, dark hair away from their face, an absent-minded motion that made Rowan’s eyes widen. They shot her a shy look from beneath long lashes, which Imani missed entirely as she stared up at Darcy.

“Malik’s antidote is working, but if I leave for too long the curse kicks in again. He’s working on a more permanent solution. Something strong enough to wipe it out without doing more damage.”

Darcy nodded. She turned to Rowan. “Do you know why you were targeted? Was it something to do with whatever you were researching?”

Rowan bit their lip. “That’s the most likely scenario. My thesis was on the comparison of the history of cross-cultural conceptions of magic within the Americas. Basically, a human-approved research topic that meant I could study the histories of magic users without anyone knowing better.”

“Someone figured you out, though,” Darcy said. “You must have come across something that worried them, that they needed kept quiet.”

Rowan shook their head, frustrated. “That’s just it, though. I was barely making any progress. A lot of the traditions I found were helpful for the history of witches, but when it came to druids and sparks I hit a wall.”

Imani frowned. “I can’t believe that druids don’t have a long history. I mean, basically all of the other druids Malik and I meet like to lecture us on the right way to do things.”

“But the _actual_ history, the actual traditions that they keep?” Rowan shook their head again. “All I found were dead ends and blank spaces where answers should be.”

“Like it had been hidden,” Darcy mused.

“Or buried. My moms are both lineage witches with strong covens, so it’s not like I was without other resources. They helped lot, since their parents and grandparents knew sparks. I could trace some of the history of the sparks’ disappearances, but every single one of their druid contacts refused to speak to me. I thought it was because I was a witch, but now…”

“You think you were shut out on purpose,” Imani finished.

“What were you working on before you were attacked?” Darcy asked.

Rowan glanced at Imani as if looking for reassurance. “I… got a little sidetracked. Started cataloguing all the known disappearances of sparks that my connections used to know. Then my advisor told me they wanted a new chapter by the end of the week for review, so I switched back to druid traditions to finish it in time.”

“Is it possible there’s a connection between the sparks’ disappearances and the druid traditions?” Darcy wondered. “Maybe the combination is what prompted your attacker to make a move.”

“Maybe. I can show you my research, if that would help.” Rowan tried to sit up, only to be pushed back into the bed by Imani. They huffed in annoyance but stopped trying to leave the bed.

“You couldn’t fight off a fly. You aren’t going anywhere.”

“Why don’t we bring it here, and you can show us?” Darcy offered, concealing a smile when Rowan scowled at Imani, who was scowling right back.

“My stuff’s saved on the cloud,” they said, tearing their eyes away from Imani with obvious effort. “I can access it here.”

“I’ll get a data pad,” Bucky told them, slipping out the door.

Darcy chewed on her lip, wondering if it was selfish to ask, “What did you find about the sparks?”

Rowan leaned forward, eyes alight with interest, only for Imani to drag them back into the cushion of the bed when they swayed. Rowan tried to move again, failed, and subsided with an air of resentment.

“Most of the information I gathered was the… well, the history of their deaths,” they said apologetically. “But there was something weird about it.”

“Weird how?”

“The _way_ they died.” Rowan shook their head, dark hair falling around their face. “I had reports of nearly thirty living sparks on this continent after the Ak’ma’s purge.”

Darcy’s breath caught, stunned by the thought of thirty sparks still alive and within reach when the dust had settled.

Rowan watched her, fingers intertwined with Imani’s. “Some of those sparks were hidden by packs or other supernaturals. A few were eventually tracked down by the Ak’ma, but…”

“But?”

Rowan swallowed hard, dark eyes remorseful. “But most of them, according to the people who’d hidden them or knew of their existence, died after a sickness no one could find the source of. A sickness no one could stop.”

Darcy felt the world drop away from her feet. Left reeling, she could only listen with a growing dread as Rowan continued, “A sickness that, based on those reports, matches my own situation perfectly. A druid-based death magic that killed them within days. Unstoppable and undetectable.”

She couldn’t breathe through the horror of it. Could only fall into the closest chair and stare blindly at the white tiled floor, heart beat pounding in her ears and drowning everything else out but Rowan’s revelation on repeat in her mind.

_-a sickness no one could stop-_

_-killed them within days-_

- _Unstoppable and undetectable-_

_-druid-based death magic-_

_-killed them within days—killed them within days—killed them within days-_

Darcy lowered her head into her hands and let her soundless tears slide down her face and fall to the spotless floor.

_A druid-based death magic that killed them within days. Unstoppable and undetectable._

She let the pain from the betrayal come, welcomed the ache in her chest, and silently, fiercely grieved.


	21. Naomi: Coalition

**21: COALITION**

**_Naomi_ **

Trashy bars were apparently a universal staple. 

The Arbor was eerily similar to Naomi’s favorite garbage bar in Cape Town, one she’d frequented with her mother and then later Alec once he’d joined her little family on their world-wide explorations. She hadn’t had time to take Vahid, but this bar was damn close. 

It was all in the scent- sea salt and unwashed bodies, stale beer and something fried that smelled delicious only mostly covering the rotting and stained wood. Boots thumping on the worn wooden floor, dim lighting that cast mysterious shadows on everyone who entered through the fractured double doors. 

The crack of glasses hitting the countertop, against each other, shattering when someone drunkenly misjudged their own strength. A cacophony of voices talking, laughing, shouting. Vehement swears and whistles rising above it all when card and dice games finished, the victors flushed from booze and triumph. 

Linnea assessed the room with one wide sweep of her gunmetal eyes, raised a hand to signal one of the manic bartenders, and stalked to a table in the far corner, recently abandoned by the unconscious drunk with vomit in his hair and beer sloshed all over his clothes. Vahid wrinkled his nose and edged around him like a scandalized Victorian maiden, but Linnea just roughly nudged the drunk with a steel-toed boot until he regained enough awareness to crawl away from the Captain with her “‘orrible stone eyes.” 

She settled into the corner, back to the wall so she could watch the rest of the room. Naomi’s chair nearly tipped over entirely when Sayali attempted to climb underneath it, caught just in time by Vahid before she ended up in a heap on the disgusting floor. Sayali gave a disgruntled huff as though she’d been the one inconvenienced and curled up between Naomi and Linnea against one wall. 

The bartender, miraculously, stopped by with three glasses of beer that made Naomi’s stomach try to crawl up her throat at the first hesitant taste. “Jesus, that’s nasty,” she coughed, wiping at her mouth with her shirt sleeve. 

“Give it here, then,” Linnea demanded. 

Naomi hunched protectively over the dirty glass. “I didn’t say I wasn’t going to drink it anyway.” 

Linnea hid a laugh in the next long draw from her own glass, leaving it half empty within thirty seconds of its arrival. She didn’t so much as flinch at the taste. 

Vahid pushed his away with politely concealed disgust. “So. Captain. You know this pirate, Harada, well?” 

At the name, Linnea cringed and downed the rest of her drink, reaching across the sticky table to take Vahid’s abandoned one. “You could say that.” She stared into the pale yellow brew as if it would offer her an escape from the conversation. “We grew up together on the streets.” 

“Of Basharat?” Naomi asked. 

Linnea lifted a shoulder half-heartedly. “Basharat, Capolis, Marrakech. Couple months in Al-Omari. Wherever we could stowaway to, until the ship crews caught on and tossed us off at the next port.” 

“Your family?” Vahid’s voice was gentle enough that Linnea’s eyes narrowed dangerously in annoyance. 

“Nonexistent. I was tossed out of an orphanage for stealing from a human noble in Capolis when I was nine or so. I found Arielle days later, and we were inseparable for over a decade after that.” She traced the rim of her cup with a thumb, eyes glued to the motion. 

“So what happened? Why did you and Arielle split?” 

“We had a Captain take us on when we were sixteen. Spent three years with him, learning the trade, how to run a ship. He said he saw a lot of potential in us, wanted to give us all the tools we needed to succeed and then set us loose on the world.” She swallowed hard. “But, as it turned out, our final test was to fight each other to the death for the honor of succeeding him- let the best captain win. I refused. Arielle didn’t.” 

Silence followed that chilling statement. Naomi could only stare. 

Vahid watched her with steady eyes. “You lived, though.” 

Her mouth twisted in a mockery of a smile. “Pure dumb luck. She gutted me, tossed me overboard and left me to die.” She leaned back, tugged her shirt loose from her pants to reveal a horrific scar that stretched all the way across her abdomen from hip to hip. The tissue was thick and knotted where the blade had cut deep- a fatal wound, surely. 

“I healed, tracked her down a year later. Wrecked her ship and stole her sword, but she got away. And thus began our legendary rivalry,” she said dryly. 

“And your quest for revenge,” Vahid murmured. Linnea’s breathing hitched but she didn’t contradict him, just took a sip of beer. 

“I didn’t see it coming,” she said, almost to herself, caught up in memory. “Never once suspected that her loyalties to herself ran deeper than our bond. She barely hesitated.” Then she shook it off, a dark smile tipping her mouth. “I killed the captain later, though. Tracked him down to his retirement estate near Mahasi- far east, very far- and slit his throat.” 

There was more there, far more about Arielle’s importance to Linnea and how deep that betrayal had burned her, but it wasn’t the time or place to push. 

“Is your rivalry the reason behind the hostility from the other pirates?” Vahid asked, bringing them back on track. 

Linnea grimaced. “Sort of, yeah. It’s a long story.” She glanced at the faint rays of light trickling through the dirty, grimy windows and sighed. “One we have time for, evidently.” 

“This seems important, Linnea,” Naomi said with a grave expression. “Whatever happened.” 

She waved a hand in dismissal. “If you’re human and a pirate, it’s definitely important.” Then she frowned, considering. “But if Arielle’s taking on jobs kidnapping the damned dragon Prime, then yeah, maybe you should know.” 

But she ordered another round and waited for it to arrive before explaining further. “Three lunar cycles ago, the pirate leaders came together for a meeting called by a couple of the old retired legends.”

“Pirate leaders?” 

Linnea shrugged. “The best on the seas and skies. Some, like that jackass Taok in the Atakan Sea, carve out certain pieces of the ocean to claim as their own. They call themselves kings of these sections.” She rolled her eyes so hard her whole head rolled with the motion to show what she thought of that. “But the lesser pirates, the ones with shitty captains or crews or ships, or the ones who are too small to fight back, they willingly fall under the kings’ reign for protection and jobs.” 

Vahid settled back in his seat, hands clasped and resting on his flat belly. “You are not included in the pirates who subject themselves to another’s rule, I’m assuming?” 

She looked offended. “Of course not, I’m the best gods damned captain there is. But I'm not alone- I'm one of a handful of pirates who ignore those kings and go where I please- because I’m  _ better _ than they are, faster and smarter with a ship that can fly through the sea or sky.” 

“These territories that the kings claim- is there not conflict with the aquatic tribes beneath the surface?” Vahid asked. 

“Oh, there’s plenty of conflict. The kings either fight and hope to win every time the tribes come after them, or they pay a steep fee to sail the surface of the aquatic’s territory- and then they charge others for sailing those same routes, claiming them as their own. The tribes don’t give a shit about that as long as their demands are met.” 

She drained the second glass and tossed it across the room to land precariously on the bar. The bartender, a different one from before, gave her a dirty look before they snatched it off the counter and dunked it in a tub of dirty dishwater. 

“Problem is, the pirate kings let the power go to their heads. They decided that they  _ liked _ ruling the seas and skies, so much that they want more.” 

“More power?” 

“More power,” she confirmed. “They called the meeting, gathered all of the worthy captains in the halls of the Basharat Warden headquarters, and proposed a Pirate Coalition.” 

Naomi and Vahid exchanged a wide-eyed look. That sounded bad. Very bad. 

Linnea sneered. “They promised riches beyond our imaginations, power over the seas and even the skies outside of Nova Solis- the dragons don’t concern themselves with our petty affairs, you see. This Coalition would create a monopoly on trade. They could charge anything, demand anything, and the other human clans and cities would have no choice but to pay it.”

“Who rules the Coalition, then?” Naomi wondered. “And why did you turn down the offer?” That had to be the reason for the open hostility towards the captain and her small crew. 

“Whoever brought the most to the table would sit on the Council.” Linnea shrugged. “I left before it was decided. Walked away from a roomful of adversaries, enemies, even a few allies.” 

“Why?” Vahid asked, voice soft and eyes steady on her. 

Linnea looked away, shifting in her seat. “The human clans would starve without us taking their goods to the trading ports. They don’t have the capability, the knowledge, or the resources to do it on their own, not like the humans living in the main cities. And while a lot of humans can choke and die for all I care, I made a promise to the Nakano and a few other clans and families, and I’m not going to break that promise just so I can join a bunch of assholes trying to capitalize on their lives.” 

Naomi studied her, thinking about how Linnea was bizarrely honorable at the strangest and most inconsistent times. She obviously had a strict moral code, though Naomi had yet to figure out what the hell it was.

Linnea cleared her throat. “Anyway, I walked away from the table. Most of my crew didn’t. The Coalition is up and running by now, and I’m sure they sent that fleet after me.” 

“Best to take out the competition early,” Vahid mused. “And if they aren’t stupid, they’ll see you as the threat you are and know to be wary.” His words caught her off guard and she looked hilariously startled at first, then quietly flattered. 

“A pirate coalition,” Naomi said thoughtfully. “Who run the seas and skies out here and take jobs with and against the governments of foreign nations.” 

“They’ll start throwing their weight around here soon enough, too,” Linnea said, the first signs of exhaustion creeping into her voice, in the lines around her mouth and eyes. “The few others who didn’t join, they’ll likely be intimidated into joining, the rest killed off when they don’t comply.” 

She lifted her glass in a mocking toast to the oblivious room, but there was genuine sorrow in her voice when she declared, “To the end of an era.” 

“I’ll drink to that, love,” said an unfamiliar, accented male voice from behind Naomi. 

She glanced over her shoulder to see a tall, beautiful man with an athletic build snag a nearby empty chair, spin it around, and straddle it backwards. He settled between her and Vahid and draped his arms over the back of the chair, loose and easy, long black hair falling over his shoulders and framing a tanned, bearded face with arresting blue eyes. 

A genuine smile tugged at Linnea’s mouth as she tilted her own chair back on two legs. “Hey, handsome. Heard you were in Marrakech until the solstice. What are you doing back here so soon?” She lifted her gaze, scanned the room. “And where’s… ah. Hello, Nailah.” 

A dark skinned woman with long dreadlocks, a stunning smile, and dual ivory pistols in her belt joined them with two drinks in her hands, passing one off to the man before cocking a hip to lean against him. “Linnea. We didn’t expect you to be back in Basharat already- not so soon after you told the Coalition to eat a dick.” 

The man chuckled low and deep as he lifted his drink to his mouth. “It was a moment I will treasure for the rest of my natural life, Captain.” He looked between Naomi and Vahid, brow raising. “Who are your new friends?” 

Linnea sighed. “Naomi, Vahid, meet Captains Nailah Oyedeji of the  _ Hyperion _ and Casimir Vasileios of the  _ Aurelia.” _

“Why does she always introduce you first?” Casimir complained. Nailah just grinned and patted him on the shoulder, propping herself up against him while he muttered under his breath. 

“I gather neither of you joined this Coalition, either?” Vahid asked. 

Nailah’s mouth curled. “No, we took our exit after Linnea’s rousing impassioned speech.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Linnea muttered into her drink. “Why the hell are assholes you back here, anyway?”

“You heard right- we were in Marrakech until a few days ago,” Casimir said, leaning in to brace his elbows on the table and lowering his voice, “at least until we heard about a couple Coalition leaders sailing in to meet with the monarchy of Marrakech.”

Linnea’s chair hit the floor with a loud thud and she stared at Casimir with disbelief. “What?” 

“They want to strike a deal with the human governments in each city,” Nailah said with a scowl. “Whether to become privateers and make their Coalition legitimate in the eyes of city leaders, or to just further bully the others out of work, we don’t know. But we’ll surely hear about it once a deal is struck.” 

Casimir shared a dark look with Nailah. “We were attacked on the way here. A split fleet, sky and sea, with storm mages on board. They’re sending out the executioners already.” 

“If we hadn’t been sailing together, we’d have been in pieces on the seafloor.” Nailah pressed her lips together. “It was a close enough call as it was, and we had to make a stop here for supplies and repairs.” 

“They hit us, too,” Linnea said, scraping her teeth over her lower lip as she stared vacantly at the bustling room in thought. “Same method.” 

Casimir blinked at her. “And you outmaneuvered six ships alone?” 

“Seven ships.” Linnea lifted a shoulder when they stared, tipped her head towards Naomi and Vahid. “They weren’t counting on these two being on board.” 

Nailah and Casimir turned astonished stares on them, but Linnea didn’t elaborate- purposely, it seemed. Naomi just sipped her terrible drink and absently ruffled Sayali’s ears when the Arcos propped her chin on her lap with a sleepy sigh, Vahid lounging comfortably in his chair with lidded silver eyes and looking for all the world like a jungle cat in a room full of unsuspecting prey. 

“Well, shit, Cas, looks like our girl’s growing up,” Nailah finally laughed. “Making her own friends and everything.” 

“Hate you,” Linnea bitched under her breath. 

Casimir’s grin faded. “Listen, Linnea, we’re leaving in a couple days. Going to clear out until things aren’t so hot. I lost half my crew to the Coalition, and the longer we stay here the more likely the rest of them are to jump ship, too. You should come with us.” 

“We’re heading south,” Nailah added. “Way south, to Adıyaman. The Coalition wouldn’t dare approach the queens there. They’d be chopped into tiny pieces and mailed back to where they came from.” 

Naomi made a mental note to avoid Adıyaman and its queens. 

“That’s a long way,” Linnea said quietly, eyes darting between them. 

“It may be the only safe place for the rest of us for a long while,” Casimir told her, his cobalt eyes gentle as she shifted, visibly unsettled by their news. “We set sail in three days' time. The  _ Revenant _ and its crew are welcome among our ranks, Linnea, should you decide to join us.” 

She flicked her eyes to Naomi and Vahid. “We’ll see,” she said, soft and uncertain. “I have a thing or two to finish first.” 

Casimir’s face shadowed. “Don’t go after Arielle. I’m all for getting revenge, Linnea, but she’s too strong to face right now. She’s got the entire Coalition at her beck and call.” 

“We won’t be around to pull you from the water this time,” Nailah warned, brow creased with worry. “Not when she guts you again.”

“I appreciate your faith in me,” Linnea snapped. 

But they just shook their heads and made to leave. Casimir paused, rapped his knuckles on the table twice and said, “Three days. We’ll look for you.” He nodded to Naomi and Vahid and then followed Nailah out of the bar. 

They sat in silence for a long while. Linnea’s was brittle, tension in every line of her body as though she’d break apart at a single touch. Naomi and Vahid gave her the time she needed to collect herself. 

Finally, she cleared her throat and stood, having chewed her lip bloody, and nudged at Sayali’s bulk with the toe of her boot. “C’mon, beast, we have a dragon to rescue.” The Arcos groaned and heaved herself to her feet with enough dramatics that Linnea cracked a real smile.  Naomi and Vahid followed her back to the docks, noting that the second sun was already dipping towards the horizon. 

“You know how to reach Santari?” Naomi asked. “I thought Avis said there were traps everywhere, and aquatic tribes in the way.”

“I know someone who can get us around the tribes and traps in the air,” she called over her shoulder. “Someone I trust.” 

“Someone you trust?” Linnea  _ trusted _ someone? This would be interesting.

“They're the ones who found me after Arielle gutted me like a fish and dumped me overboard. They saved my life rather than let me bleed out or drown,” Linnea admitted. “And while water shifters are next to impossible to get in touch with, I know where this pack hunts this time of the solar cycle. Plus, they can’t be corrupted by the Coalition, and the aquatic tribes stay the fuck away from them, too. They’re lethal hunters, and I’m one of the  _ very _ few humans they acknowledge.” 

“You said they’re water shifters?” Naomi asked, interest clashing with a sharp ache- Alec had been a water shifter. Vahid reached out and clasped her hand in silent comfort. She smiled gratefully at him.

“Selkies, some call them. A pack of sea leopards native to the waters around Santari. They’ll get us to Santari safely- provided I can find them first.” 

The rest of the crew waited on board the  _ Revenant. _ Ceren began signing immediately to Linnea upon their arrival, reporting the haul of traded goods, and one of the older crew cut in to inform her that a few of their usual contacts refused business, so they’d had to find somewhere else to trade. Linnea winced at the news and gave the order to cast off. 

“Get us out of here, quick and quiet,” Linnea commanded, signing the words to Ceren as well. “If we’re lucky, we won’t be attacked immediately outside of Basharat’s neutral waters.” 

Naomi and Vahid stayed out of the way, watching the colorful glow of the lights from the port illuminate the stalls of the trading markets in the purple curtain of nightfall. She saw two massive ships docked side by side, swaying gently in the rocking waves as their crews lit lanterns onboard, the  _ Aurelia _ and the  _ Hyperion _ solemnly witnessing their departure. 

It felt, suddenly and sharply, like a permanent goodbye.

~*~ 

The fire of the early morning suns climbed and conquered the sky, set the seas and skies ablaze with color as their small group waited on a small island’s sandy beach in the center of the ocean.

Naomi blinked away the clinging haze of sleep in the early dawn light, stifling a yawn as she inched closer to Vahid to share his warmth. He smiled at her less than subtle attempts and pulled her close, let her lean on him and the heat he radiated like a bonfire. 

“You’re sure they got your signal?” Naomi asked, her voice slightly muffled from where she’d buried her face in the curve of Vahid’s shoulder. 

She didn’t know where they were, exactly, had given up consulting the map and the stars in the middle of the night when she grew too tired to stand, but wherever Linnea had brought them was  _ cold.  _

“I’m sure.” Linnea rubbed at her tired eyes with closed fists, her eyes bruised from lack of sleep and clothes rumpled from their brief row to shore on the small skimmer from the  _ Revenant. _ Splashes of dark ink from her tattoo showed through the damp spots on the thin white material of her shirt, her freckles striking in the glow of the morning light. “Hard to miss that much blood.” 

Naomi grimaced. The crew of the  _ Revenant _ had caught more fish than she could count overnight, giant sea beasts that had taken six people and a wind Mage each to reel in, and collected their blood and guts in buckets before cooking them for dinner and breakfast. Then they’d dumped it all overboard until the sea was stained red and the air tasted of copper, light mists of blood capping each wave for half a mile in every direction. It was a wonder they hadn’t been tracked down and eaten by one of the nightmarishly massive sea creatures that lurked in the ocean depths. 

“Why is the signal buckets of blood, again?” She asked. 

“Inside joke,” Linnea muttered. “The first time it was me they found that way. The second time I’d just barely won a fight with a sea serpent- don’t ask, four years and I  _ still _ don’t want to talk about it- and from there it just became a thing.” She waved a hand. “They have a weird sense of humor. Just go with it.” 

“It does make sense. All apex predators respond to the call of fresh blood,” Vahid inferred. His silver eyes were sharp and lovely in the pink light, his hair windswept and damp from the seawater during the row to shore. 

Naomi wrinkled her nose. “I’ll take your word for it.” 

Linnea straightened suddenly, eyes on a ripple of water coming closer to shore. “Here we go,” she murmured. 

As though summoned by her words, a human head broke the smooth surface of the water, rising naked from the sea like a goddess hailed by one of her faithful disciples. Naomi barely even noticed the two others that followed her out of the ocean, too fascinated with the tall Being stalking across the sands.

Twists of blue-black hair clung to her wet skin, falling past wide, muscled shoulders to a thick waist. Her eyes were wide and more rounded than a human’s, soft and romantic with long, sweeping eyelashes in a face of flat, broad planes and shallow dips, a wide mouth and square jaw. 

But what caught and kept Naomi’s attention were the markings on her skin, the hint of the beast below shown in the freckles on her shoulders that scattered down and across her chest, darkened and widened into true spots along her ribcage and down her muscled legs. The pattern of spots mingled together, black and blue-black, lighter grey and white spots along the soft skin of her abdomen so that the pale skin shimmered in the morning light. 

When the shifter twisted to glance back at the  _ Revenant _ waiting offshore, Naomi saw the same dark spots riddled from the back of her shoulders to her knees, her arms and calves showing only a pale dusting of the markings. The two other shifters at her back bore similar patterns on their skin. 

This woman and her kind carried their beasts close to the surface, didn’t separate it entirely from themselves the way the selkies on Earth practiced. Instead they kept it just beneath their human skin, lingering like armor whenever they left the security of their waters. 

“Rho,” Linnea greeted in the dragon tongue, unaffected when the water shifter stopped with her face lowered impolitely close to her own and inhaled deeply. The two others lingered closer to the sea, remaining ankle deep in the water to watch the proceedings and presumably guard their leader.

“Not your blood?” Rho’s voice was low, deep, and rough.

Linnea’s mouth quirked. “Not my blood.” 

“Hmph. Our foolish pup lives another day. The pack will be glad to hear it.” She straightened to her full height and blinked those fathomless brown eyes at Naomi and Vahid. “You brought strangers?” 

“Friends,” Linnea said quickly. “On a hunt.” That caught Rho’s interest. She perked up, staring at Linnea in wordless demand for an explanation. “The dragon Prime was taken. By Arielle Harada,” she added reluctantly. 

“Your enemy,” Rho said, grave. She touched a clawed finger very carefully to Linnea’s belly. Linnea let her.

“Yes. Arielle kidnapped the Prime, and she’s taking him to the Sokolov in Santari.” 

Rho scowled. “Trespassers,” she snarled. “They came when the moons last waned, with the tide. They snuck past us in the air like cowards.” 

“We need to get to them before they can hurt him further or leverage his life to make demands. They’re keeping him drugged with Cobaena, and it only takes one miscalculation for a sedative dose to kill him instead. That would spark a war that I don’t think any of us can afford.” 

“They hunt like cowards, too.” Rho nodded sharply. “I will guide you to Santari, if you promise to keep your fight with them out of our territory. We have pups in the water. They are too young for a fight.” 

Linnea didn’t hesitate. “Deal. How soon can we leave?” 

Rho grinned, and Naomi saw that her teeth were long and sharp like a leopard seal’s, even in human shape. She supposed it was the reason for Rho’s slightly garbled speech. “How quickly can you catch up?” 

With her challenge issued, Rho dove back into the sea and vanished beneath the glossy surface. The other two followed without a sound.

“C’mon,” Linnea said, jogging back to the skimmer. “She’s not kidding about that- they’re hard to keep up with, and we don’t want to be left behind out here.” 

It turned out to be true- Ceren had to use their powers to push the  _ Revenant _ to keep up with their pace, the ship powering through the increasingly rough waters with its sails stretched tight against the Mage’s winds. 

A massive sea leopard breached the water’s surface every so often when they changed course, but most of the effort was Linnea’s, who stood at the wheel and watched the waters with grey eyes like iron tracking every ripple, every too-still spot, past wicked currents that would throw them onto the jagged rocks lurking beneath the waves. 

How she could see these patterns was beyond Naomi’s understanding, but the captain of the  _ Revenant _ was as good as she claimed to be. Maybe even unnaturally so. 

Rapid flashes of light signaled Ceren’s guidance from the crow’s nest, spotting anything that would wreck the ship or take them off course. But Linnea barely had to glance at the mirror fixed to the main mast, often having already spotted the danger and adjusting the ship accordingly as the crew hurried to obey Ceren’s instructions. 

While Naomi could have warded them from sight, she knew that maintaining a ward for a ship this size, and all of its passengers, against the hypersensitive Beings and aquatic tribes beneath the surface would drain her badly, and she needed to be fresh for whatever terrible thing waited for them in Santari. 

Rho chirped at them after a few grueling hours of work, swimming alongside the ship until Linnea leaned over the edge and waved, moving her hands in unfamiliar signs to the sea leopard. Another sign language, then, one likely developed by the water shifters. 

Linnea straightened from the rail and swiped the hair out of her eyes with an impatient gesture. “We’re clear. Santari’s just ahead.” 

Naomi looked ahead and winced at the heavy mists hovering just above the sea’s surface and concealing everything past it in wispy clouds of frosted air. “Through the fog?” 

She sighed. “Yeah, through the fog. But we’re dropping the anchor right here and taking the skimmer to shore. The waters are too shallow, not to mention all the reefs that’ll shred the bottom of my ship if we get too close.” She handed Naomi and Vahid a shirt dyed dark blue that matched her own. “White will stand out too much, the city’s practically overgrown with the forest by now.” 

Naomi shrugged and turned to face the rail, stripping off her tattered shirt with her back to the rest of the ship. She heard a low noise of surprise from Linnea as her white shirt hit the deck. 

“Your tattoo is moving,” she said, an odd note in her voice. 

Naomi shrugged, felt the wings of the bird on her back ripple in response. “It does that.” 

“A firebird,” Linnea said quietly. She could feel her staring. “A sign of rebirth. I used to… I used to dream about them as a kid.” 

She pulled the new shirt over her shoulders and turned around to study the captain, who seemed a little lost all of a sudden. “Did it mean something special to you?” 

“It just… reminds me of a different time, that’s all,” Linnea said, soft and faint. Caught up in her own head, in the memories released from their prison. “When I was young. Hopeful.”  She shook it off suddenly and appeared embarrassed by the statement. “Never mind. We’re wasting time.” 

“Let’s go, then.” Naomi hesitated, realizing she was assuming things she probably shouldn’t. “Vahid could probably fly us in. This isn’t exactly what you signed up for- you got us here in one piece, which is what the deal was.” 

Linnea waved her off and checked her sword, her pistol, the double ended dagger at the small of her back. “I’m coming, you don’t know the city or how to get to the center of it. Besides, I want to know why the hell a human clan has taken the dragon Prime.” 

Naomi was relieved that the competent and formidable captain would be joining them, but her words touched on the same question that Naomi had been quietly mulling over since they’d left Nova Solis. 

What did the humans want with Darius? How could they benefit from this without starting a war that they weren’t capable of winning alone? 

She waited until she was seated beside Vahid in the skimmer, Sayali crouched and eager at her feet, to bring it up. He frowned, the lines of his face warm and beautiful against the veil of white surrounding them. “I have been wondering the same thing. I can’t make sense of their motives, though I’m sure that is partially because I am unfamiliar with their clan and culture.” 

“I am familiar with them,” Linnea offered, quiet in the heavy mists as she guided the skimmer to shore, “and I can’t make sense of it, either.” 

Pieces of the puzzle were floating around in Naomi’s head, spinning in fractured lines that were extremely distracting and also giving her a headache. Nothing quite made sense; the moving parts and motives and people were all connected somehow. If only she could figure out how. 

Linnea brought the small boat to shore without a sound, skimming just above the surface of the water to remain unnoticed. Naomi did a quick sweep with her magic to make sure no one waited for them on the black sand beach and nodded to Linnea. 

They dragged the skimmer to the thick tree line to hide it in the heavy underbrush. Naomi marked it with a quick rune to keep it hidden from sight and then followed Linnea and Vahid into the abandoned city of Santari. 


	22. Darcy: Surprise Visits

**22: SURPRISE VISITS**

_**Darcy** _

Jane found her on the balcony, where she sat silently and watched the looming night creep across the city to settle in a dramatic counterpoint to the city lights that gleamed in the heavy dark.

Darcy didn’t notice her arrival for a long moment, too caught up in the memory of her conversation with Stiles from earlier that day.

The memory of his face when she’d shared Rowan’s discovery made Darcy sick to her stomach even hours later, a dawning horror turned to a grief so deep he’d looked hollowed out, a shell of his usual animated cheer.

She’d only remembered halfway through the explanation that Stiles’ mother had died of a mysterious but brutal disease when he was young. It had advanced too quickly for the doctors to keep up with, let alone find the source.

Then she’d stuttered to a halt and stared at him, wide eyed and suddenly speechless.

_“Stiles…”_

_“Does this mean…” He trailed off, staring into the distance. She made an aborted gesture towards him, helpless. He didn’t appear to notice._

_“Darcy, does this mean they killed my mom?” Stiles’s voice shook around the words, cracked on the last._

_“I don’t know,” she whispered. Her eyes filled with tears._

_“She was so sick,” he said, almost to himself. “But it was… it was prolonged. Not short like Rowan’s sickness.”_

_His mother had been a spark, though. Either the druid had perfected their method over the years or Anya Stilinski had held it off for longer with her own magic. Either way, she’d died shortly after falling sick, wasting away in the hospital while her tiny son refused to leave her bedside._

_Stiles rubbed his hands over his wet face. “She, uh. She bound my spark before she got sick. I remember little pieces of it. Mostly just being confused.” His mouth twisted in a poor imitation of a smile. “The binding tickled. I thought it was a game.”_

_Darcy’s heart ached. If his mother had known, somehow, that a killer had her in their sights, she would have taken immediate steps to protect her son. Had he shown any signs, the killer might have targeted him, too._

_“Why would they attack her? What did she do to draw their attention?” He shook his head. “There’s so much I’ll never know.”_

_“You know she loved you,” Darcy reminded him. She chewed on her lip, wondering privately at the coincidence of Stiles being raised in Beacon Hills by a spark mother- in the same town as a pack of werewolves led by the formidable Talia Hale. What were the odds that it had been a random choice?_

_And what were the odds that Darcy, one of three known sparks left alive after the purge, had found them, too?_

_Coincidences were starting to look like conspiracies, she thought wryly._

_“What do we do?” He asked, desperate. He’d never looked so helpless, so devastated. Their strategist, the one with the plans, left lost and adrift._

_She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “We hunt them down, and we put a stop to it.” Stiles lifted eyes wet with grief to hers. “We’re close, Stiles. We’re so close.”_

_Relief swelled at the first flicker of light in his face, awareness returning and replacing the blank expression on his face with something fierce. A breath of agreement from him, a promise shared between two friends, one to which they would both give their all._

That had been hours ago. She’d stumbled her way to an empty balcony, needing silence and space to clear her head. Mostly it’d just left her stewing in her miserable thoughts.

She clocked Jane’s approach right around the time she stopped beside Darcy’s chair, turning her head to blink up at Jane’s worried face.

“I heard,” Jane said hesitantly, twisting her hands together. A nervous tell, one that gave Jane away every time. It hurt Darcy to see it now, her friend so uncertain of her welcome that she was unable to contain her anxiety. And yet she’d come anyway.

“About what?” Darcy asked, dropping her head back on the chair. “The vampires? The lamia? The druid assassin?”

“Lamia?” Jane asked, bewildered, then shook her head before Darcy could answer. “Never mind. The druids.”

Darcy curled her legs up so she was cross-legged and gestured for Jane to sit on the empty space on the chair. She obeyed, looking relieved at the invitation, and copied Darcy’s pose so that they sat face to face, knees pressed against the others’.

The night was silent around them. Or as silent as New York got, anyway. The nightlife never slowed, faint sounds of humanity drifting up to whatever alarmingly high story they were on.

“I was planning to come find you,” Darcy said after a beat of silence. “To apologize.”

Jane gave her a crooked smile. “Me too.”

“I ended up blindsided by an angry Lydia and then attacked by a horde of rabid vampires. A lamia also made an appearance. What’s your excuse?” She joked.

“I was also blindsided by an angry Lydia,” Jane shared. Darcy gave her an appropriately sympathetic face. “And then… uh. There were some. Developments.” She flushed.

Darcy raised a brow. “Developments?” She asked, slow and interested.

“In my relationship,” Jane said stiffly. Incredibly, she turned an even deeper shade of red. Darcy tried not to let her delight show.

“Do you have consorts now?”

Jane glowered. “They are not _consorts._ They’re… well, we’re still working on a title.” Darcy waggled her eyebrows suggestively. “Stop it! You know I hate that.”

“Well yeah, that’s why I do it.”

Jane huffed at her, but a smile softened it. “I’m going to tell Brunnhilde you called her a consort.”

Darcy scoffed. “Please. She could kick my ass and I’d thank her for it.”

Jane laughed outright at that. “Yeah,” she agreed. “I can’t fault you for that.”

Silence fell between them again. Not strained, exactly, but weighted. Darcy watched Jane idly trace the lines of the chair. Felt the solemn memory of their fight hover between them.

“Jane,” she said quietly, and waited until Jane looked up to say, “I’m sorry. I should never have reacted the way I did. I know I’m… irrational when it comes to the Ak’ma, but I should have looked past my own feelings to consider the position you were in.”

“I didn’t mean to blindside you,” Jane said regretfully. “I kept meaning to talk to you about it, and then kept making excuses not to because I was worried you’d think that I was, I don’t know, betraying you or something.”

Darcy shook her head. “That’s on me, Jane. I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me about it. And I don’t- I would _never_ ask you to put my comfort over the lives of your citizens. Not even the Ak’ma.”

“I’m sorry that it turned out this way.”

“I’m not.” Darcy smiled wryly at her. “I needed to get over it.”

Jane’s laugh was small, soft. “Lydia?”

“No, she was surprisingly diplomatic about the whole thing. Even though I have a feeling she wanted to strangle me at first.”

“Same here. She told me I was an idiot for springing it on you like that. She said everyone knew you’d need to be prepared for it. I just didn’t know how to bring it up.”

“And then I proved her right,” Darcy muttered, annoyed with herself.

“You have every reason to be afraid of them. But… part of why I didn’t want to tell you was about trust. I was afraid you didn’t trust me to do it right, and I didn’t want to be right about that. So I just avoided it.”

Darcy wormed closer on the chair so that their knees touched. Jane swallowed hard and continued, “I was scared of losing you.”

“Never,” Darcy swore fiercely. She cupped the back of Jane’s neck and pulled her in, pressed their foreheads together when Jane’s breath hitched. “I love you. I would never leave you, not by choice.” Her voice shook though her hands were steady, unwavering.

Part of Jane still seemed to believe that this was all some huge cosmic joke, that one day she would show up and no one would look at her. That she’d go back to being alone, bereft in an uncaring world. Darcy and a pack of werewolves were slowly changing that belief, along with Thor and now Valkyrie, but it was hard to shake the foundations that one grew up on. Harder still to unlearn all the rules she’d established for herself, rules that guarded her soft heart against the rest of the world.

Jane swiped impatiently at the tears on her cheeks. “I know,” she said.

“You seemed unaware of the lengths to which I would go to keep you in my life,” Darcy told her, almost apologetic. “It’s pretty fucking far, Jane.”

“You think I don’t feel the same?” Jane asked angrily. “You gave me a family again, Darcy. I faced _my mother_ down because I knew you had my back. I’d give you my damn realm if you asked.”

“I don’t want it,” Darcy said immediately, because she wasn’t an idiot. The Fae realm was still more on the ‘scary’ side than anything else. Not to mention the bloodthirsty citizens.

Jane laughed. “You really don’t. It’s a lot to handle.”

“We just made up and you’re trying to pawn off that headache onto me? And here I thought we were friends again.” She grinned when Jane shoved weakly at her in protest.

Then she sobered. “I hear you’re throwing a party soon. Are invitations required?”

Jane’s face lit up. “You’d come to the Wild Hunt celebration?”

“Do you want me there, after I was an asshole the last time I saw your Hounds?”

“Yes. Idiot. Of course I want you there,” Jane said firmly. Then she hesitated, teeth catching her lip. “But… Are you sure you _want_ to be there? I’ll be releasing them. Setting them loose on the Hunt.”

“I trust you,” Darcy said, and meant it. “But maybe I can stand with your super hot consort just to be safe. The one with the sword, and the biceps.”

Jane giggled, then slapped a hand over her mouth in mortification. “I sound like a teenager again. God help me.”

“You sound happy,” Darcy corrected, pleased to see her friend so elated.

“I am now.” Jane frowned suddenly, reaching out to cling to Darcy’s hands. “Darce, what’s going on with the druids? I feel like I’ve missed so much.”

Darcy sighed heavily. “A grad student was attacked a few weeks ago. They’re a witch, as it turns out, and had been researching the history of magic in the country.”

“Attacked by the druid?”

She nodded. “An assassin, we think. Someone who’s been operating for decades. Cora and Natasha had been tracking down as many victims as they could match to the profile, but it wasn’t until Rowan woke up that we realized it was further than that.”

Jane squirmed closer, so that their knees now overlapped. The ‘wolves had been rubbing off on her. “Rowan found something.”

“Evidence that the druid had been tracking sparks,” she said quietly. “And killing them with the same death magic they used on Rowan.”

Jane’s breath left her in a rush. “Oh my god. Darcy.”

“Including Stiles’s mother,” she finished. Jane practically choked on her rage.

“We’re trying to pull the final pieces together,” Darcy continued. “I think this assassin has had help in finding all the sparks, but there’s also a number of druids and witches that died this way, too. Some humans, though we’ll never know if they were sparks whose magic hadn’t presented yet.”

“What are we going to do?”

Darcy smiled at the question, at the unquestioned _we._ Just arrived and already prepared for a fight. That was her Jane, all right. “We’re going to find them,” she said quietly. “One way or another. And make sure it never happens again.”

~*~

Jane had sworn to give any and all help they might need. But Darcy hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Dragging Jane into her fight was one thing. Dragging the ruler of a foreign realm into her fight was a whole other ordeal, and Darcy didn’t want to bring the Unseelie Queen into a war unless she had absolutely no other choice.

Besides, when it boiled down to the core of the matter, this was something that the sparks of earth needed to handle without outside interference. It wasn’t revenge that fueled them- not entirely. No, it was time to prove that they would stand up to their promises to the supernatural people. That the sparks of this new age were here to protect their kind from all threats, internal or external.

Time to stand on their own. Time to face the threat head on.

It was this urge that led Darcy back to her ruined apartment, picking her way through the damage with a heavy heart. She and Stiles had replaced the wards as best they could, guarding the wrecked building until repairs could be finished.

But her apartment was a place of solace for her. She needed that now, needed help finding her calm again. It was an exasperated calm, sure, but it was still hers, halfway demolished or not.

Plus she needed to pick up more clothes for her and Bucky, as well as a few plants from Imani’s apartment that she’d worried about.

Standing in the center of her ruined den, staring at the thick sheet covering the hole in the wall, Darcy could only shake her head. Fucking vampires.

“Wow.” The voice behind her made her whirl, hands lighting gold, only to freeze in place at the sight of Nick Fury standing in the doorway. He wore black jeans and a knit purple sweater that looked very comfortable and probably hid at least three weapons. The eyepatch really rounded out the outfit.

Her wards hadn’t been set off, she thought past the astonishment of seeing a dead man judging her decor. Or what was left of it, anyway.

“Redecorating?” He asked casually.

“Someone made a suggestion we couldn’t ignore,” Darcy said, lowering her hands. She watched as he leaned down, picked up a singed green scale and squinted at it.

“Lamia,” she explained.

He looked at her. “No shit?”

“No shit. Big, scary, angry, sharp everything.”

He nodded thoughtfully, like he was storing the information for further consideration.

“You look pretty good for a dead man,” Darcy said, wondering what the hell the former director of Shield was doing in her apartment. “What’s your secret?”

“Spite, mostly,” he said, and surprised a laugh out of her.

“Is that why you’re here, lurking in my apartment?”

He made a face. “The last time I lurked in someone’s apartment, your boyfriend shot me.”

“It’s his apartment, too,” she pointed out, more amused by the recent development than she probably should be. “Dangerous territory.”

“What can I say, I like to live on the edge.”

She’d never met Director Fury, had mostly just heard stories from the Avengers about the legendary man who’d led Shield for years. She’d never expected to meet him, certainly, and never thought she’d _like_ him. He was far less annoying than Coulson, anyway.

“If you’re looking for a rematch, Bucky’s not here,” Darcy said without real concern. If he’d wanted revenge, he’d have sought it out before now.

“I’m looking for you, actually,” he said, stepping over the remains of her kitchen barstools.

Darcy frowned. “Me?”

“You’ve done a good thing here, Lewis. Or should I say Stark?”

She gave a small smile. Shrugged. “Lewis, Hale, Stark. Take your pick.”

“I’ve watched you for a while now,” he said without seeming to realize how weird that was to say to someone you’d just met. Honestly. Were all spies so poorly socialized?

“You’re building something here,” he continued. “Opening up a whole new world of possibilities. The Avengers, a pack of werewolves, both Fae Queens, the King of Vampires. All in your corner.”

“Most of that happened by accident.”

“Some would call it fate,” he countered. She had no rebuttal- hadn’t she just been thinking the same thing? So many coincidences in her life, aligned so perfectly that chance couldn’t have been the deciding factor.

“Some would,” she said. “But what does that have to do with why you’re here?”

“I’m sure Maria has told you by now that Shield used to keep an eye on supernatural events and threats.”

“Threats like the sparks?”

Fury shook his head. “Threats like Hellmouths and out of control shifters or vampires. Big picture problems that threatened the statute of secrecy. Sparks maintained that line between the worlds. The world was a quieter place before they died.”

“Before they were killed,” she corrected quietly.

He dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Before they were killed.” He twirled the lamia scale slowly between his fingers. “The Hydra takeover made me take a harder look at a few things that had been bothering me for a while. Things I’d written off as Hydra hits, even if they didn’t quite make sense.”

Darcy’s entire focus was on him now, wondering if he was about to offer her another piece of the puzzle. Something to connect the information they knew into something coherent, into an _answer._

“I started to suspect something was off before Hydra made their move. So I started looking, rooting out their plants where I could. Only, occasionally I found a different plant.”

“The druid kind?” She guessed.

He nodded. “The druid kind. It was, much like your experience, an accident that I discovered that secret societies weren’t solely a human invention.”

Darcy blinked at him, thrown. Secret society? But that meant… “The assassin isn’t working alone?”

“I don’t know much about the assassin. Could be one druid, could be multiple druids carrying out a hit.”

“So it’s an organization, not a single person,” she breathed.

“I had the agent watched,” Fury admitted. “Didn’t want to scare him off before I could figure out who the hell he worked for, and what he was doing at my agency.”

“He was finding targets, wasn’t he?”

“I think so.” Fury watched her with steady brown eyes. “Thing is, he was on our nemeton stabilizing unit. When the sparks died out or went into hiding, the established nemetons across the country started degrading. Unraveling. We needed druids to balance them again, but their efforts were only temporary. A spark could balance a nemeton and anchor it to the land it was on, but a druid could only connect to the nemeton.”

“They can’t anchor nemetons,” she said, catching on. “So if this druid came across a stable nemeton…”

“He knew a spark was nearby,” Fury finished. “And would presumably contact his superiors with the location of a new target. Since nemetons would remain unbalanced without a spark, it wasn’t unusual to have to send a team to the same nemeton more than once.”

“No one would suspect that the nemeton’s anchoring force had been lost.” No one would know a spark had died, leaving a void where the nemeton’s stabilizer had been.

“As you can imagine, they’re on the move constantly. They’re never in one place for long, since they have nemetons to constantly rebalance. And since they have other threats to find.”

Darcy breathed out slowly, heart racing. It was all coming together, the pieces falling into place, but all she felt was nausea. A systematic method of finishing the purge, done in secret by those they’d never considered a threat.

She looked up at Fury, tried to focus despite the grief burning her heart to ash. Something in his eyes made her think that he saw it in her and understood.

Darcy only knew him from the stories, the legends shared about the man responsible for saving the world more times than it would ever know, much less thank him for. She hadn’t expected kindness from the man that the intelligence community still spoke about in hushed, awed whispers. He was larger than life in the minds of most who knew of him, but the empathy he offered that she appreciated most.

“If they’re on the move, spread out all over the place, it’ll be hard to find them,” she said.

“It will,” he agreed. “Except…”

She looked up, hope filling the aching void in her chest.

“Except I made a hard call, a couple years ago. I let the druid plant keep working for us, and then I let him go when he asked to leave.” Fury shrugged. “Call me a paranoid bastard, but I wanted one known agent in this druid organization that I could keep tabs on.”

“You can find him,” she said, breathless.

“Already did, actually.” He smiled at her. “Looks like their little organization is all kinds of worried about the waves you’re making. He booked a flight to El Salvador under one of the aliases I happen to know about. A contact of mine in the area followed him from the airport, only to lose track of him near the Laguna de las Ranas.”

“Wards, probably,” she murmured distractedly. Santiago was from El Salvador. She didn’t know where the Laguna de las Ranas was, but he might, and he may even know other supernaturals in the region.

“I suspect he’s meeting with others in the organization,” Fury continued. “Deciding what to do about you and Stilinski. I thought it might be worth checking out.”

“Why?” Darcy asked. He raised a brow. “Why bring this to me now? At all?”

“Like I said. You’re doing a good thing here. The world’s about to change, and you can make sure it's for the better. Besides, I know what it’s like to be sucker punched by a bunch of traitors.”

“Right. Hydra.”

“Hydra,” he agreed darkly. “When you do make that change, by the way, give me a call. I know something about handling a global crisis.”

“Let’s see if I survive the next week first,” she said, dry.

He turned for the door, waving a hand over his shoulder. “You’ll be fine. Keep your head on straight and your allies at your back. Take the boyfriend, too. I’m sure the bastard's itching to shoot someone again.”

She stifled a laugh. Before he made it to the door, she called out, “Director Fury.”

He paused. “Not a director anymore. Just Fury is fine.”

Fury raining down on the enemy, she thought. There was something poetic about that.

“Fury. Thank you.”

“Someone’s gotta make sure the world keeps turning. It’s what we do, right? ” he asked. His mouth curled into an enigmatic smile. “You aren’t as alone as you might think, Lewis.” The darkness in the stairwell swallowed him up with those last words, his exit as dramatic as his entrance.

Darcy was so grateful for his appearance and information that she was back at the tower before she realized that she’d forgotten to ask how he’d gotten past her wards.

~*~

The quintet hummed quietly on the helipad outside, prepped for flight and stocked with a range of supplies for their trip. Bucky and Natasha were already onboard, running through the final flight checks, and Stiles was having a quiet farewell with Derek and Noah before he boarded.

Darcy stood with her dad, watching Santiago haul the last couple bags up the ramp. Laguna de las Ranas, as it turned out, was part of his family’s massive stretch of territory. She’d barely gotten the explanation out before he was on the phone, calling his family and preparing for a visit.

“I still don’t see why I can’t come,” Tony muttered.

“You’re Iron Man,” she reminded him. “Iron Man doesn’t know about the supernatural, and he definitely shouldn’t be duking it out with druids in another country. What would the press think?”

He scowled. “The press can fuck off.”

“They don’t seem to give a damn when you tell them to do so,” she said. “And the supernatural world _really_ doesn’t need to be revealed through an Avenger related international incident. We would never recover.” 

“Please, my PR team is unbeatable,” he scoffed.

“And they would murder you themselves if you signed them up to represent werewolves and witches.”

“They can’t complain. I’ve been downright tame these past few years, I’m sure they’re bored.”

“Old age has mellowed you,” she said agreeably, then squawked when he ruffled her hair in retaliation.

“Be safe,” he told her. “Please, for the love of god, be safe.”

“Don’t worry, Dad,” she soothed him. “I’ll be with Bucky and Stiles. And Laura!”

“That… does not fill me with confidence,” he said, frowning. “There’s barely a shred of common sense between them.”

Maybe she should have led with Santi and Nat. “It’ll be fine. I’ll check in every day. Promise.”

“You’d better, or I’m coming to find you,” he threatened.

“Yeah, yeah, love you too.” She hugged him tightly, waiting patiently until he released her to head for the door.

She snagged Stiles’s sleeve on the way, pausing briefly to kiss Noah’s hair and let Derek draw her into a one-armed hug. Noah, in his other arm, made a sound of annoyance when he was squashed between them.

“Stay together,” Derek told them.

“We will,” Stiles promised. He kissed Derek one last time, then Noah, and followed her out the door.

Laura’s voice stopped them before they made it to the ramp. They turned to see her striding across the helipad, dark hair blowing around her face, with Peter at her back.

“Dad?” Darcy asked, taken aback at the sight of him. She’d called him with an update a few hours ago, but he’d been upstate with Cora.

Peter took advantage of her surprise, tucking her under his arm and leading her up the ramp without a hitch in his stride. “Did you really think I was about to let my daughter run off to fight a druid assassin without me?”

“Yes, since that what you said you were going to do when I called you.”

“Hm.” He considered briefly. “I lied.”

“What I’m feeling is not surprise,” she told him.

“You always were a smart one,” he said, mocking. She elbowed him in the side, knowing he’d probably clocked her relief at the sight of him and was too kind to call her on it.

She let him lead her to a seat and take her bag for storage, fussing in all the ways he’d later deny. Stiles was subjected to the same treatment, the two sparks trading looks when Peter’s back was turned.

“Alright, kiddos, let’s get moving,” Laura said, hands on her hips. Her tone was light, cheery even, but the hues of red in her eyes revealed the seething anger she’d expressed since Darcy had returned to the tower with Nicky Fury’s intel.

Santi paused on his way past her, hand pressed to her lower back, body curled around hers as he murmured something in her ear that was too low for Darcy to catch. Whatever it was, it made some of the rage fade from Laura’s stance. Peter made no sign he’d overheard other than casting an approving glance Santi’s way.

Bucky made his way back from the cockpit, dressed in his black tac pants and a white undershirt that would be hidden beneath his jacket later.

“You good?” He asked her softly.

She nodded, letting the others’ conversation cover her answer. “I think so.”

“We’re with you, Darce,” he said seriously.

“I know.” She caught his hand and squeezed it, grateful that he’d taken a moment to find her before takeoff. Nerves were fluttering hard through her abdomen, a nauseating combination of anxiety and anticipation.

He held her gaze for a moment longer and then, satisfied she was okay enough to leave in the other’s hands, stood with a fluid grace that always made her mouth go a little dry.

“Takeoff in one minute,” Natasha called, and Darcy took a moment to be grateful she was with them, too.

“I’m her copilot,” Bucky said, looking down at her. “Be back once we’re in clear airspace.” He didn’t move for a beat.

“I know you’re used to Steve’s batshit stunts out of a plane every time you take your eyes off him, but I won’t be jumping out of this thing anytime soon,” she said, only partially joking.

“I’ll be here, too, if you care,” Stiles teased him. Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Barnes,” Natasha called, irritable.

“Back soon,” he said, pressing his mouth to hers briefly before returning to the front.

Darcy took a breath as the jet lifted smoothly into the air. Soon, she told herself. Soon they’d arrive in El Salvador, and there they would find the root of the poison killing her people and burn it to ash.


	23. Naomi: Rescue

**23: RESCUE**

_**Naomi** _

Linnea’s words proved to be true- Santari was a city of ghosts. Of phantoms and memories anchored by ancient crumbling structures, the pieces of time clinging to the old windows and weathered statues even as the forest endeavored in its quest to conquer the abandoned city. 

She saw thick tree roots winding around cracked flagstones in the dark, consuming forest, sunlight leaking through a lattice of leaves and a patchy sky visible through the tree breaks. Tall shadowed trees stretched like arrows into the sky, streaks of fog filtering through and settling into the air, bewitching stillness among the labyrinth of trees and beckoning them into the pulsing heart of the woods. 

Enormous tree trunks groaned, the undergrowth crackling with each careful footstep, the flutter of wings unseen somewhere overhead. Animal calls and soft hoots reverberated through the trees in a haunting ballad as cold, dewy leaves slid across Naomi’s skin with every slippery step on wet plants and earth, careful not to step on the rugged slopes of the roots. 

The trees here were noble giants, sleeping souls that guarded and preserved this piece of history, the land that lived and breathed magic. The mist grew thicker the further inland they walked, vaporous mists swirling about like a conjurer’s illusory smoke. It deadened sound, haunted glades, poured into the empty spaces so that it felt to Naomi as though they were walking through a cloud. 

Santari was hushed in the sieves of mist and hoods of black shadow, a great cathedral entombed in the exalted forest. The structures of the city were now clutched firmly within the fingers of those ancient trees, nature asserting its claim of the abandoned city through a reverent, eternal embrace. 

Naomi realized she was holding her breath only when her lungs protested. She sucked in the light air, tasted the faint hints of the ocean at their backs and the slow curl of smoke somewhere ahead. At her side, Sayali sniffed the air with growing interest. 

“Sokolov are magic users,” Linnea whispered. “Their power comes from their rituals- usually dark and demonic. Lucky us.” 

Naomi choked. “And you didn’t think to tell us this  _ before _ we strolled into their camp?” 

Linnea’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Would it have made a difference?” 

She stared, incredulous. “Would it have-  _ yes, _ it would have made a difference! Do I need to check for wards? Will there be traps?” Linnea had known there was a possibility of magic ahead and she’d just sauntered right in? Was she  _ crazy? _

“Doubt it. The rituals give the individuals very little power after it's been spread throughout the clan. Most of their rituals are designed for funneling power into a single purpose.” 

“Like witchcraft,” Naomi mused, the wave of alarm receding. Her quick sweep revealed no magical traps waiting for an unsuspecting idiot to bumble into it, but she cursed herself for not considering that there were other kinds of magic users in this realm. Now was not the time for mistakes.

Linnea shrugged. “Sure, whatever. All anyone knows is that the Sokolov clan gets up to some weird shit up north.” 

“‘Weird shit,’” Vahid parroted, amused. “How very explanatory.” 

“You guys are luckier than you realize that you came across the Nakano first,” she informed them, swiping at the sweat beading on her forehead with the back of her hand. “They’re the most normal and adjusted of all the clans. If the Sokolov had found you, they’d have sliced you open to the bone and sacrificed you for power.” Sayali rumbled low in her throat. 

“So don’t get caught,” Naomi surmised, sharing a brief look with Vahid. “Point taken.” 

“C’mon, the prisons are this way.” She pointed to a cracked marble path just ahead, drawing her double-sided dagger and spinning it with an ease that suggested long hours of practice. 

“How do you know this city so well? I thought it was abandoned before you were born,” Vahid asked softly. 

Linnea sent him a mysterious smile. “I’m older than I look, dragon. Besides, I spent about a solar cycle on this island after ‘Rell tried to kill me. The selkies found me, pulled me to shore before the aquatic tribes could follow the blood trail. I recovered here. It took a while.” She swatted aside a low-hanging branch, didn’t bother to hold it out of Vahid’s way. “By the time Cas and Nailah sailed by and responded to the message I left on the beach, I’d come to know the island well.” 

“So the Sokolov weren’t here then?” Naomi asked, stumbling over a loose stone and sending a cascade of tiny pebbles rolling into the lush grass. Sayali cast her a disdainful look, the Arcos stalking effortlessly and silently over the overgrown path.

Linnea frowned. “No. I don’t know what they’re doing here. Santari is supposed to be off limits for everyone- not that anyone in their right mind would  _ want _ to come here. It’s surrounded by three separate aquatic tribes and the selkies along the southern shores.” 

“Perhaps the Sokolov needed a prison for Darius?” Vahid suggested. “If they hired a human ship and flew in, they could have avoided any conflict with the tribes. It would have been worth the risk, if they’d planned to kidnap the Prime all along.” 

“We can figure it out once Darius is safe on the  _ Revenant,” _ Naomi interjected, impatience and stress intensifying with every low animal call, each crackle of leaves and sticks beneath their feet as they crept through the abandoned city of dragons. It was disquieting. 

Nature had reclaimed most of Santari, covering it in soft sprawling grass and moss and earth that hosted bulging tree roots and drowning stone. But the closer to the center of the city, the strength and extent of the earth’s hold lessened. It was a shocking difference, so stark that it was almost painful to witness the slow fade of creeping tree roots and grasses and the steady rise of smooth stone buildings. 

Linnea kept them close to the edge of the thickest part of the forest, not willing to sacrifice their cover until the last possible moment.

“Here,” she finally whispered, crouching low in the undergrowth. Naomi and Vahid flanked her and peered through the heavy foliage, alarmed to find two guards standing outside a massive structure, armed to the teeth and wearing unsettling masks over the upper half of their faces that appeared to be made from the skulls of some unfortunate creature. 

The effect was extremely menacing. 

“Can you take the short one down?” Linnea asked, voice barely above a murmur that Naomi had to strain to hear, even from half a foot away from her. The captain twirled the dagger again, adjusting her stance to take aim before she cocked an eyebrow at Naomi. 

She buried one hand in Sayali’s scruff for balance, then paused and glanced over at the massive canid when she made an eager sound, eyes bright and long, tapered ears pointed ahead towards the targets. 

Linnea followed her gaze to Sayali and grinned. “That’s an even better idea. Set your Arcos on the tall one, then, and I’ll take out the short one. Quick and quiet.” 

Naomi held up her hand, palm out, to request Sayali’s attention. The Arcos went utterly still.  _ “Glaes,” _ she whispered.  _ We hunt. _

Sayali’s eyes gleamed arctic blue. Naomi gestured to the guard, made a circular motion with one raised finger, and said,  _ “Cahmás dhahbram.” Silent kill.  _

Sayali bumped her nose against Naomi’s hand and vanished into the shadows between the trees, leaving them to wait in tense silence as she crept around to come up behind the tall guard, who was standing closest to the tree line on the opposite side of the courtyard. 

Linnea balanced on the balls of her feet as she dragged another knife out of the folds of her clothing, eyes never leaving the space between them and her target. She was tracking something, watching the empty air with an intensity that made Naomi wonder what she saw that they didn’t. 

She didn’t get a chance to ask. 

Sayali darted out of the trees with all of the explosive force of a bullet fired from a gun, fast as lightning and twice as deadly. The guard didn’t even have time to turn his head before she was on him, her massive jaws clamped tightly around his throat as she hauled him back into the cover of darkness. The entire exchange took less than three seconds before they’d disappeared into the dark.

The second guard only had a heartbeat to react before Linnea’s throwing knife sank into his neck. He collapsed, blood pooling out of the wound in a halo around his head as Sayali trotted out of the trees with her tail waving and blood staining her muzzle. To Naomi’s amusement, the bone mask dangled from her mouth, streaked with red blood stains and drool. 

“You can’t keep that,” she told her, but Sayali just danced in place as though inviting her to just try and take it. Naomi decided to table that discussion for later and followed Linnea and Vahid through the open doors of the prison, pausing to help them drag the guard’s body out of sight.

The ceilings arched overhead like a cathedral, the walls showing a spider web of cracks. The stone ground was damp and dirty, each prison cell enhanced with pure dragonglass accents- the bars, the walls, lining the edges of the cell floor. She heard a number of small creatures scurrying across the floor, away from the bloodied Arcos listening closely to their little heartbeats. 

The cells at the front of the prison were left open. Blood stained the floor of each cage, smeared along the floor as though bodies had been dragged out of them. It made her stomach lurch, fear that they’d been too late, but then-

“Here,” Linnea whisper-shouted, beckoning them to a nearby closed cell deeper into the room. Naomi and Vahid ran to her, skidded to a stop, and stared in horror. 

Darius was bound, beaten, and washed of all color beneath the dark brown of his skin. He was barely breathing, chest moving in a shallow but steady rise and fall from his slumped position on the floor, curled away from the dragonglass bars at his back. 

“He’s weak,” Naomi said worriedly, fumbling with the door and hissing when the lock sparked against her fingertips. 

“They must still be using Cobaena to keep him docile,” Vahid said, face grim and anxious as he stared at the man he considered a brother. He inched closer to the dragonglass bars, close enough that he couldn’t conceal the involuntary pained noise from the material’s effect on him. 

Naomi turned away from the lock, pressing him back with one hand on his chest. She touched her fingertips to his cheek and implored, “Let me work, Vahid. I can’t focus if you’re hurting.” 

He pressed his lips together in a tight line but obeyed, stepping a few paces back so that the dragonglass no longer burned him. She nodded in thanks, relieved he’d listened to her, and hunched back over the thick metal loops holding the door shut. 

Linnea crowded her, peering over her shoulder at the engravings. “What are those?” 

“Runes,” Naomi murmured absently, trying to make sense of the sigils carved into the metal. “The language used to wield magic. Only I don’t quite recognize these…” 

She squinted down at them, noting that a couple were vaguely familiar. From her brief lessons with Idri? Or- no. No, from her even briefer lessons with Nia, the Keeper of Al Riyadmi, back in Naomi’s home realm. “Hang on, Nia taught me some of these.” 

Vahid made a noise of interest. “From our dealings with the necromancer?” 

Linnea’s gunmetal grey eyes went wide. “You guys fought a necromancer? Are you nuts?” 

“Arguably so,” Vahid said with more politeness than the situation warranted, then rested a hand on Naomi’s hip to get her attention. “Can you break them?” 

“Yes,” she said, more confidently than she felt. “I just need to find the ones I know, remember what they mean, and figure out how to break the connective piece without blowing us all up.” 

Linnea made an interested sound and leaned closer. Exasperated, Naomi nudged her back and refocused, trying not to let the looming urgency and risk overwhelm her. Her hands wanted to shake. She scowled, cursed under her breath, and kept them steady as she turned the heavy lock over in her hands to examine the opposite side. 

“I need your knife,” she told Linnea after a long moment, holding out a hand without looking away from the lock. 

“What for?” Linnea asked, but passed it to her without pause. 

“If I can disrupt certain runes linking all the magic to the lock, I can render it void.” She glanced up, assessing Darius with a flare of worry, and chewed on her lower lip in anxious thought. 

One mistake and they’d be discovered or blown up- or worse. Some of these runes had nasty implications. She suspected a few would act as a black hole for the magic tying it all together. Trip the wrong rune and it would swallow any magical trace within ten miles. 

It was a very good thing that Naomi was skilled with languages and had a decent memory. She was able to identify some of the runes, the sigils passed down for centuries between magic users that she’d studied briefly with Nia. 

“This is going to take time,” she warned the others. “I have to disrupt exactly the right runes in exactly the right place to disable this.” 

“We’ll keep watch,” Linnea assured her and then trotted down the hallway to take up a position by the doors. Vahid moved reluctantly after her, shooting glances back at Darius and Naomi. 

Naomi shut out the distractions and set to work. 

After some time, Darius stirred in the cell, groaning weakly as he tried to roll over and failed. He shivered violently, breaths coming in pained rasps and muscles seizing from being locked in place for so long on the unforgiving stone floor. 

“Shh,” Naomi soothed, working fast. He didn’t appear lucid enough to realize who she was, so she didn’t bother trying to talk to him. Better that they not draw any attention by speaking further. 

She was close, almost prepared to break the final seal and incapacitate the magic on the locks, and felt hope swell in response. Maybe they’d get out of this unseen after all. 

But no- their luck had run out. 

“Someone’s coming,” Linnea hissed, crouching low and peering cautiously over the ledge of an empty window. “Three- no, four guards. All armed.” 

Naomi swore. She dragged the edge of the knife against the hard metal, straight through the delicate lines of the final rune. The lock grew warm in her hands and slowly cracked apart until it crumbled in pieces to the ground. She yanked the cell door open and darted to Darius, hands moving gently over his body to check for wounds. 

Linnea joined her, sliding her knife back into its sheath on her belt and helping Naomi carefully drag the dragon into a seated position. Darius cracked his eyes open and stared blearily at them, eyes bloodshot and dazed. 

“We’re going to have to carry him back to the ship,” Linnea said worriedly. “And there’s no time to escape unseen- the Sokolov will have prepared for a dragon shifting on the island. There will be traps waiting in case one tries- it’s why no dragons try to even fly past their territory up north.” 

“We won’t be able to outrun them, either,” Naomi cursed. 

“You need a distraction,” Vahid said softly from the cell opening. 

Naomi’s hands went slack. Darius tipped dangerously over while Linnea swore and scrambled to catch him. Linnea’s words from earlier echoed in her head.  _ If the Sokolov had found you, they’d have sliced you open to the bone and sacrificed you for power.  _

“No.” 

“There’s no time,” he said impatiently. “I can lead them away, buy you time to get Darius to the  _ Revenant _ and to safety.” 

“Did you not hear her? They’ll sacrifice you for power!” 

“Not right away. A ritual of that kind would take time to prepare. Time that you can use to get Darius to safety and then return to help me escape.” 

Naomi took a shaky breath, felt her eyes burn. “God dammit.” She ducked her head, took a deep breath, and then looked him square in the eyes. “I’ll come for you.” 

Vahid smiled, as though that were never in question. “I’m counting on it, my love.” And then he darted from the prison, nearly barreling the Sokolov guards over, and vanished into the forest as they shouted in alarm and sprinted after him, leaving the two women crouched by the injured dragon and tasked with dragging him through the same forest to safety. 

~*~ 

Dragons were heavy regardless of what form they were shifted into. Bone density played a role, as did the impressive muscle mass and bulk. Neither proved particularly helpful during their painfully slow trek back to the  _ Revenant. _

Darius was too heavily drugged to manage it alone, and even between the two of them and Sayali it was a struggle. The angry, fearful shouting that echoed through the mists didn’t help, either. 

Naomi limped along, straining under the Prime’s dead weight, and tried not to think about whether Vahid had been captured yet. Because he  _ would _ let himself be captured, that much she knew. He’d never risk the Sokolov turning their attention to Naomi and Linnea’s escape with Darius, and allowing himself to be caught would ensure they had the time they needed to get clear. 

And if the Sokolov had truly laid traps for dragons, had made the dragons’ own former city unsafe for them to fly, then he couldn’t even shift to get away. 

Which meant she needed to get back to him as fast as possible. 

The trek back to the ship seemed to take eons, time stretching out between them and the city at their backs. Naomi could have cried with relief when the mist thinned to reveal the skimmer resting right where they’d left it, the steady roar of the ocean waves crashing onto pitch black sand a boon to her shattered nerves. 

Linnea and Naomi lowered Darius into the skimmer, wincing when he landed with an audible thud, too heavy for them to set him down gently. 

“Sorry, your majesty,” Linnea muttered, and Naomi had to choke back a laugh before the hysterical sound escaped her raw throat. She took a single second to catch her breath, to evaluate her next steps.

The forest was silent now. Ominously so. The shouting had stopped, the mists thinned as shadows lengthened, clawing for more territory, leaving darkness like a stain behind them. 

She felt something inside her respond to the looming darkness, like a coiled snake raising its head. Baring its fangs, challenging the threat while venom dripped from its hissing mouth. An accumulation of fear and anger at the thought that she might lose the one she loved again. 

But this time… this time she could do something. She could make these people regret ever taking what belonged to her, regret ever hurting him. 

“I’m going back for Vahid,” she said, motioning for Sayali to fall in step with her. The blood around her muzzle had dried, flaking off and leaving behind only a faint patchwork of red. 

It would be covered again soon enough. 

“If I’m not back by the time the first sun sets, leave without us,” Naomi ordered. “Get Darius back to Nova Solis as fast as you can sail.” 

Linnea’s jaw worked. “You’re trusting  _ me _ with the life of the dragon Prime?”

Naomi held the captain’s gaze even as her magic swelled, bleeding into her irises until they were swallowed by gold. Linnea inhaled sharply at the sight. “I am.” Oddly enough, she found she meant it, too. “Don’t make me regret it. And stay out of Santari. It’s not safe anymore.” Because that snake in her chest had unwound itself and was prepared to strike, now. Hunting.

Sayali needed no encouragement to follow her back into the shrouded woods, slinking from tree to tree like a shadow herself. Naomi let herself remember all of their mock-hunts with the Nakano, training together until spark and Arcos could communicate with a glance, the flick of an ear, the dip of a chin. 

They’d forgotten nothing. 

Two sentries died with Sayali’s teeth in their throat, having never seen her coming. The third startled at the low-throated death cry of one, his own magic dark and viscous against her own as he prepared to set off the alarm. 

Naomi slipped up behind him as though she’d stepped straight out of a shadow, settling a hand on his throat and letting her own magic surge to the surface in warning. “Don’t,” she advised coolly, “or I’ll make you eat it.” 

He swallowed hard. His eyes were white all around with fear at the touch of her spark- but his own magic blinked out without further delay. “Where have they taken the dragon?” 

The man’s accent was thick, almost too hard to parse in the dragon tongue, but she got the gist of it when he pointed and stammered a response. His terror grew when Sayali rounded the tree, teeth gleaming amid frosted fur soaked red once more. 

Naomi used her magic to crack his head against the tree, hard enough to knock him unconscious. By the time he collapsed face first into the dirt, she and Sayali were already on their way towards the center of the city. 

They lost concealment from the trees the closer they crept to the heart of Santari, but many of the buildings were in ruin and made for decent cover. The mists were still lingering around the city, though, and they had a few close calls with the sentries. Sayali left a trail of bodies behind her, and Naomi finally understood why so many dragons in Nova Solis had watched the Arcos so warily. She was a killing machine when the situation called for it.

To her astonishment, she discovered that the Sokolov clan had removed some of the rubble and stone paths to dig deep into the earth, leaving a massive crater in the center of the abandoned city that they’d apparently claimed for their ritual site. 

She heard a short scream rise suddenly through the air, cutting off as quickly as it’d begun. Her heart leaped into her throat as Sayali growled, both of them picking up the pace until they were crouched behind a discarded pile of stones from the dismantled buildings and able to see the masked humans drag a body off of an obsidian altar and dump it very close to her hiding place. 

The Nakano tattoos on the body made her blood freeze and her mind whirl with the implications. Why was a Nakano clan member this far away from Kailua? How had the Sokolov clan found a Nakano to sacrifice in the first place? 

She glanced up, past the altar, and shivered at the sight of a throne carved from the bones of some ancient, primordial creature resting in the soft dirt. It had been made from something so large that it gave her chills to witness- for the massive throne of ivory that stretched to alarming heights was only a small part of a skeleton. Perhaps it was from one of the gods of this world, fallen long before dragons entered this realm and took the skies for themselves. 

Had it been here before Santari had been built? Was that why the Sokolov had come to the city- to dig up this skeleton? 

The questions quieted at the sight of Vahid, hands bound in dragonglass manacles, as a guard dragged him into the center of the crater, towards the altar. 

The world quieted to a low throb that greyed the edges of her vision, like the last shuddering moment before her lungs gave out and the water rushed in. She kept her focus on him, felt Sayali stiffen at the sight of him, prepared for the order to sprint into the fray and retrieve their dragon. 

Sokolov clan members milled around, all wearing the creepy bone masks that twisted their voices and concealed their faces. Too many to fight on her own… Or maybe not. Her rage was a tangible thing, her magic burning through her veins like a wildfire in response to the dead Nakano and Vahid in chains. But impulsive actions would only get someone hurt, and her love seemed unconcerned with the daggers and pistols pointed at him.

“You should let me go,” Vahid said calmly. “I did not come to Santari alone, and she will come for me soon. It would be best for you if she found me uninjured.” 

A slim woman rested on the ivory throne carved from that terrible skull. She wore a dress of white with silver edging that fit her like a second skin, wrapped in a cloak made of black avian feathers that flowed down her back and made her blonde hair shine like a beacon.

Presumably the leader of the Sokolov, based on her natural comfort on the throne, the blood stains on her hands and dress, and the deference from the others in their treatment of her. She arched an eyebrow with obvious amusement at Vahid’s claim. 

“And why is that, dragon?” She fiddled absently with the many rings on her fingers, all bearing flashy gems that could absorb and contain power based on the muted pulsing glow that Naomi could see with her own magic. 

“Because when Naomi loves someone, it is unconditional and unyielding,” he said quietly. “And she will do anything to keep those she loves safe.”

The woman cocked her head thoughtfully, toying with him. “So your death would break her.” 

Vahid shook his head, disappointed. “If that is the case… I mourn for your people, witch, I truly do. You have no idea the price she will carve from your world if I die.” His eyes were a terrible burning silver. “The riptide of her grief will drown you all.” 

“Such power,” the leader said with audible interest, her smile dark and greedy. “You claim one woman holds the ability to defeat me, my clan? And she is coming right to us, walking into the jaws of death? How convenient.” Her guards chuckled. 

“She is a spark,” Vahid said, his own smile dark and showing far too many teeth to be friendly, “so I do not doubt that she could wipe you out if she wished to do so.” 

The word spark sent a ripple of unease through the clan. Naomi saw them exchange wary looks, peering over their shoulders and into the darkness as though expecting her to spring out and set them all ablaze. 

Naomi clenched her hands, felt the crescent moon gouges it left on her palms. Let it ground her as Vahid scanned the area and found her. 

Time took on a slow, muted quality. It dragged out as their eyes met, as understanding passed between them, an eternity contained within the span of a few seconds. 

His face was eclipsed by shadows that splayed across his face, adding sharp angles, dips and arches over his cheekbones and mouth. Faint light filtered through the trees that cast his face in shadow, but she saw the way his eyes were bright with rage and a promise of violence at the sight of the murdered Nakano tossed aside like trash. 

Vahid raised a brow, flicked his eyes to the heavy clinging mists and the latticework of leaves overhead, and she understood. 

Time to instill some fear. 

Her magic responded to her call like a herd of rampaging wild horses, eager to be off its leash after hours of restraint. She reached for the spears of sunlight first, letting her magic brighten it until the lances of light through the leaves glowed so brightly it was almost painful to look at. 

Next, she let seams of golden light banish the gloom and illuminate the mists, spilling into those empty spaces and pooling until it seemed as though her magic touched every molecule of air in their surroundings, in every breath they took, seeping through their skin and saturating everything in the clearing with a heavy golden presence. 

“You should let me go,” Vahid said pleasantly, raising his hands with a pointed look. “Before she loses her temper entirely.” 

Dark magic lashed against her own, the Sokolov bringing the might of their power against her spark and quailing when the fury of her magic burned theirs out in one fell swoop. She reached for the blanket of power that settled over them all- and  _ in, _ deep into their skin and lungs and blood by now- and ignited it, a brief flicker of the ease in which she could set them all alight. Panicked shouts in response.

“You cannot hope to stand against her, even with all of the power you’ve amassed here. And you should not give her a reason to kill you all- her Arcos is hungry, and I’m assured that is an incredibly violent way to die.” 

A trembling guard inched over to Vahid when the leader gave the furious command to release him, skittering away again once he’d tossed the cuffs aside and rubbed at the burns around his wrists. 

“Another thing,” Vahid said, the anger climbing out of his chest now so that each word had the force of a roar behind it, “are there any more Nakano on Santari that you’ve taken prisoner?” 

“No,” the woman said tightly. “They are all dead.” 

“Where did you get them?” 

“I do not know.”

“I find that hard to believe.” 

The woman winced when Naomi levered her magic against them again. Jaw tight, she said, “Our chief ordered us here to perform the rituals for more power. I was not told anything further, just to expect a shipment of prisoners from her once a lunar cycle.” 

“Go home, witch, and do not return to Santari. And tell your chief that we will bring war to their doorstep if they take one more Nakano.” 

With that, Vahid stalked out of the crater and into the woods, careful to stay away from Naomi so as not to give away her hiding place. She understood- while they could have fought the Sokolov, better that they didn’t, for preserving time and power. She waited another few minutes to see if they’d send someone after him, but the Sokolov just huddled near their altar and stared nervously into the dark. 

Sayali loped through the trees, seeking Vahid’s hiding place like a heat-seeking missile. Naomi heard his surprised  _ oof _ when she crashed into him, tail waving wildly and smearing blood across his skin and clothes as she wriggled against him. 

“Oh,  _ now _ you want to be friends?” He complained. “I just had to be kidnapped, that’s all it took?” 

Naomi let out a breathless laugh and crashed into him, holding him so tightly she knew she was leaving bruises. She didn’t care, was too relieved to have him alive and unhurt in front of her. He cupped her head with one hand, pressed a kiss to her temple, and then said, “We should go before Linnea leaves us behind.” 

She didn’t let go of his hand the whole way back to the beach. 

“Fucking finally,” Linnea hissed when they stumbled out of the tree line and jogged across the black sands to reach the skimmer. “I saw you light the whole fuckin’ sky up, so thanks for that. Now we’ll never get out of here unseen.” 

“They won’t be coming after us,” Vahid said confidently, climbing into the skimmer and kneeling at Darius’s side. “They know when they’re outmatched.” 

Linnea cast Naomi a questioning glance even as they both shoved off, rowing hard for the  _ Revenant _ anchored further out at sea. Naomi just shrugged.

The crew raised the skimmer on board easily enough with Ceren’s help, and Vahid carried an unconscious Darius into one of the small rooms below deck, the crew’s healer following with his bag of supplies. Linnea shouted the order to start moving, to get clear of the hostile territory as soon as possible. Naomi followed her onto the upper deck as she steered them through the dangerous waters.

“They were sacrificing Nakano,” Naomi said, wiping at her face when a spray of seawater soaked her. The wind had picked up at some point, more than just Ceren’s work. She glanced back at Santari as the mist swallowed it up again, wondering what to make of their discovery. 

Linnea jolted and twisted around to stare at her. “They were  _ what?” _

“I think all those missing Nakano somehow ended up in the hands of the Sokolov to be sacrificed for power.” She paused, glancing up at Ceren as Vahid joined them, looking quietly troubled. “Is Ceren okay with Darius being on board?” 

“He’s unconscious and half-dead, which helps,” Linnea answered distractedly. “Go back to the murdered Nakano.” 

But Naomi was still focused on Ceren’s burn scars, visible even from the deck. “I’m going to hurt Faraco for what he did to them,” Naomi said, squinting up at Ceren as they leaped fearlessly from the mast. “Very, very badly.” 

Linnea frowned, eyed her strangely. “Faraco didn’t do that to Ceren.” 

Vahid and Naomi turned to stare at her. “What?” Naomi asked. “But Ceren flew off when his name was mentioned.” 

“Ceren doesn’t like  _ any _ dragon, and Faraco’s a complete asshole anyway,” Linnea said, “but he didn’t do that to Ceren.” 

“Then who did?” Who had disfigured and tortured Ceren if not Faraco?

“Consul Tahj did,” she said, “and Consul Radia. Ceren was their plaything for years.” 

Vahid was asking questions, voice sharp and urgent, but Naomi had a dizzying moment of confusion and clarity that made her head swim. 

Before she could piece it all together though, verbalize her suspicions, a warning shout rose from the crow’s nest. Ceren soared up from the deck to join the lookout, returning within a few seconds to Linnea’s side with a pale, shocked face. 

Ceren’s hands flew faster than Naomi could track, but Linnea’s hands had tightened on the wheel until her knuckles were white and the wood groaned in protest. 

“What? What is it?” 

“We have to hide,  _ now,” _ she said, glancing wildly around at the empty expanse of ocean in every direction. “Can you-” 

“Drop the anchor, it’ll be easier to maintain if we’re still,” Naomi commanded, and snatched the dagger from Linnea’s belt to carve a series of runes into the rail of the ship. “No one move!” She shouted when she was finished and had activated it. 

They all waited with bated breath, wondering what had alarmed the lookout and Ceren so badly. A speck of black on the horizon caught her attention and she watched with mounting horror as it grew… and grew… and grew. 

The colossal fleet of ships sailed past them with flags of a crossed bone and sword, stamped over the image of a kraken on a black flag. Linnea swore quietly at the sight. 

Vahid pointed up and they looked to the sky to find another fleet flying overhead in formation with the ships on the sea. Naomi’s heart pounded as they passed, the sound of war drums bouncing off the water like the pulse of some eldritch sea creature out for blood. 

The  _ size _ of the fleet… it could sack cities, ruin civilizations, an army sailing and stocked for war. 

“The flag,” Naomi whispered. “What does it mean?” 

“The Kraken is the moniker of a pirate who rules the Cherniaki Sea,” Linnea said, voice low and careful as she studied the passing fleet. “That’s his symbol. The bone is the mark of Evane Samaras, the queen of the Mahasi seas and rivers. They call her the Butcher of Mahasi. Don’t ask why.” 

“And the sword?” 

Linnea’s hand dropped to her own sword hilt, mouth in a grim line. “Arielle Harada, The Raider.” 

“This is the Coalition, under three pirates,” Vahid said, silver eyes watchful. “Did they have only three leaders that you last knew?” 

“No, there were more. But these three… they’re the strongest, with the most to bring to the table. They’ll also slaughter any competitors without hesitation.” She nodded, almost to herself. “I knew it’d come down to those three, but I never expected them to actually agree to work together.” 

Urgency flashed through Naomi, a reminder of her earlier revelation as this final piece fell into place. “They’re sailing to war.” 

Linnea looked at her, grey eyes flinty in the fading light. “Yes.” 

Naomi swallowed. “To Nova Solis, specifically.” Vahid made a sound low in his throat, one that made the others edge nervously away from him. 

Linnea frowned. “Wait, what? Why would they…” She trailed off, realization slowly coming to her as well. 

“Because,” Naomi said intensely, beginning to pace,  _ “Dragons _ hired the pirates to kidnap Darius, or at least they urged the human clan to hire the pirates in order to cover their tracks. Whoever killed Sargon and then Natoya wanted information on how to break the link between the city and the royals.” It was the only thing that made sense, the only information worth killing the Prime and his High Mage for. 

“But why?” Vahid asked. 

“They want the royals unseated. God, I thought Faraco had been working against them this whole time, but if it’s been Tahj and Radia all along… I’ve barely even been watching them, but they’re on the council, they want what the others want.” It fit- those two obviously reveled in the power they held over the other dragons. She couldn’t imagine what they’d do with humans. 

A glance at Ceren reminded her that she didn’t have to wonder. 

“Break the link between them and the city is unstable, the royals easy to pick off. Sargon died  _ after _ he’d been separated from the city. I’m willing to bet there’s some level of protection involved for the ones maintaining that link.” 

“Break the ties, kill the royals, take power?” Linnea said skeptically. “You think they’re stupid enough to start a coup? Nova Solis would riot. They love the royals.” 

“That’s the thing,” Naomi insisted, “it’s not going to  _ look _ like a coup. Think about it- dragons kidnap Nakano and send them off to the Sokolov so they can ritualistically sacrifice them for power. In return, the Sokolov agree to hire the pirates to get rid of Darius and keep him from returning. I bet Tahj and Radia hoped or even planned for one of the royals to go after him, further weakening and possibly even breaking the link.” 

Naomi pointed at the fleet still passing them by. “When that didn’t work, they kept encouraging strained relationships between the dragons and humans, and even the Mages by accusing Ziadie for being in on the kidnapping. Whether they planted the idea for the Coalition or are just capitalizing on it, who knows, but  _ now _ they need to draw the other royals out to get rid of them. And what better way to do that than an army of pirates carrying dragonglass weaponry?” 

“Soraya would have to leave to defend the city,” Vahid said tightly. “She is the General. Kaveh, too, as Wing Commander. He leads an entire faction of their army, they would need him in the fight.” 

“Leaving Esteri and Rahim alone to bear the burden of keeping Nova Solis afloat.” 

“They plan to kill Esteri and blame it on Ziadie, no doubt. Further tensions between the dragons and Mages.” 

“Same with Rahim and Noor. That’s the canid shifters blamed, too, and Rahim is weak, too injured to even shift.” 

Linnea made a noise of agreement. “Tahj and Radia are purists. They don’t want dragons intermingling, much less interbreeding with other races. Ceren said those two spent a lot of time bitching about it. That’s why they…” She grimaced and touched her own throat pointedly. “To keep that from getting out.” 

“So, what, Nova Solis will just be collateral damage?” Naomi wondered, chewing on her lower lip in thought. 

“Most of the citizens can fly,” Vahid pointed out.

“Most,” she repeated. “That’s it-  _ most.  _ Not the disabled, the young, the elderly. The sick, the Mages and humans and shifters in the city.” 

“A clean start,” Linnea said quietly. “They want a clean start for their kind.” 

“And Nova Solis is too integrated to accomplish this any other way,” Vahid said, disgusted. He ran a hand roughly through his hair, fury rising. “How can they think we are any better than the others? We are powerful, but that doesn’t make our lives worth more than a human’s, or a Mage or a shifter.” He snarled, glanced at Naomi. “You know what this means?” 

“Yes.” Naomi took a shaky breath. “We have to get back to Nova Solis before the Coalition attacks, or the royals will die and the city will fall.” 


	24. Darcy: Betrayal

**12: BETRAYAL**

_**Darcy** _

Laguna de las Ranas was only a small part of the territory that Santiago’s family controlled. Jungles in El Salvador were dense, wild, and dangerous- but the Gonzalez family that ruled these areas were jaguar shifters, swift and clever and deadly.

Darcy kept close to Santiago as he guided them confidently through the winding jungle paths that were barely visible to her human eyes, constable overlapping and appearing or disappearing without warning. She had a feeling that anyone wandering through the jungle without a shifter familiar with the area would be lost within minutes. _She_ felt lost, but Santi hadn’t hesitated once.

“Aren’t there roads? I’m certain I saw roads when we were landing,” Peter said, slapping aside a creeping vine with distaste.

Princess, Darcy thought with amusement. Bucky shared a look with her that suggested he was thinking the same.

“The roads are watched,” Santiago called over his shoulder. “This is safer.”

“Watched by who?” Stiles asked, adjusting the heavy backpack loaded with supplies. Overhead, monkeys and birds called urgently to each other, darting from branch to branch to watch the intruders.

“Hunters,” Laura said grimly. She’d been to visit Santi’s family a few times, Darcy recalled, and had taken to the paths with her usual exuberance.

“They like to track outgoing supernaturals and stop any incoming,” Santi confirmed. “They’ve got an in with local police and position themselves at checkpoints along the roads.”

“Most won’t try anything once we’re in Gonzalez territory,” Laura added, “but all bets are off if they confirm you’re a non-human.”

Santiago smiled with all of his teeth. “Unless they run across one of our patrols.”

“Speaking of,” Peter said, casting his eyes pointedly overhead. “You’re aware we’re being followed, correct?”

Darcy had felt eyes on her back from the moment they’d left the quinjet, though she’d mostly chalked it up to general paranoia after Fury’s reveal. A quick scan with her magic had revealed too many life forms to track, none with magic themselves excepting a few shifter types that must be the referenced patrols.

She checked again, a quiet pulse of her magic echoing through the trees. It pinged off of multiple life forms again, though this time the shifters felt closer, if a little different than before.

The thick canopy shielded their group from the worst of the looming sun, providing plenty of coverage for those who stalked them in the branches above.

Santiago seemed unconcerned, cocking a smile back at them briefly before saying, “I am.” And then, almost faster than Darcy could track, he sprinted for the thick trunk of the closest tree, jumped, rebounded off of it, and vanished into the canopy.

A startled squawk sounded from above. She looked up and caught a glimpse of Santi as he arched gracefully over a heavy branch, snagged something small and squirming clinging to it, and landed neatly beside the group again.

They stared for a moment at the wriggling bundle tucked beneath Santi’s arm like a football. Darcy bit back a laugh when a small, forlorn face peered up at them.

“How’d you guess?” The boy complained.

“You growled at a monkey when we first entered,” Peter told him, grinning.

The boy, who couldn’t be more than six, sighed and drooped. “The monkeys always ruin the game.” He appeared content to dangle from his uncle’s arm.

“The kids like to see how long it takes visitors to find them,” Santiago said fondly. “Meet Angelo, the youngest child of my sister, Yesenia.”

“How come you’re back already, Tio?” Angelo asked curiously. “Mama didn’t say you were coming _today.”_

“I took a very fast plane,” Santi said, returning to the path they’d been on before he’d snatched his nephew from the treetops.

“Did you steal it?” Angelo asked, sounding pretty hopeful about it.

Santiago hefted him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes instead of answering, ignoring the tiny growl of protest. Angelo propped his bony little elbows up on Santi’s shoulder and watched the rest of them with bright brown eyes.

“Hi, Laura! Did Tio Santi steal the plane from the ‘Vengers?” Angelo asked, undeterred. Natasha looked away to hide her smile, red hair bright against the deep green of the foliage.

“Something like that,” Laura told him, reaching out to ruffle his hair.

Angelo perked up. “Cool!” Santi cast her an exasperated look over his other shoulder. Meanwhile, Angelo chattered on about something Darcy couldn’t follow but seemed primarily aimed at Laura anyway.

The air was thick on her tongue, humid and stifling even under the cover of the thick canopy. She stepped carefully over slippery leaves and past the spaces where the wet ground crumbled underfoot, holding branches of deep green leaves back for those behind her. Sweat slid down her neck and chest, pooling in the small of her back and the hollow of her throat.

The lush, tangled vegetation tripped her up when they strayed off the paths at Santi’s behest. Despite the oppressive heat, Darcy found herself appreciating the sheer capacity for life that the jungle boasted. Brightly colored birds trilled and warbled above their heads, adding to the cacophony of noise from the spider monkeys screeching at them as they chased the group from the trees.

Bucky steadied her when she skidded a little on a clump of damp leaves. His eyes scanned the jungle with an awareness that was more instinct than anything now, after years of conditioning, and she knew that the bulky bag strapped to his back held parts of a rife that could be easily assembled or dismantled.

“We’re close,” Santiago assured them, and then flipped Angelo over, catching him by the ankles to let him dangle upside down and giggle like it was the most fun he’d ever had. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and go tell abuela we’re here?”

“Okay!” Angelo chirped. He flopped to the ground in a flailing pile of limbs. They watched with interest as he rolled to his stomach in one graceful, instinctive movement, shifting into a small black jaguar cub as he did so.

He tried to dart ahead, got his paws tangled in the pile of clothing left from his shift, and tumbled to the dirt with an ungainly thump. Darcy felt her heart squeeze at the indignant mewl from the tiny cub before he right himself and scampered off, calling in a scratchy tone to whoever waited ahead.

Laura propped her arm on Santi’s shoulder as they watched him go. “We’re going to have so many of those,” she said, casual as ever. Santi slid her a look from beneath thick black lashes, and Darcy was grateful when Stiles stepped up before they could make the whole group even more uncomfortable.

“Eye fuck each other on your own time,” he said, shoving them both along.

“Hypocrite,” Laura accused. “You look at Derek like this all the time. _Derek._ My little _brother.”_ She shuddered and made a spectacularly disgusting hacking noise.

Stiles just shrugged. “He’s hot like burning. I can’t help it.”

Peter intervened when Laura geared up for a fight. “Children,” he warned, nodding to where the underbrush had started to thin. “Behave yourselves. We are guests here.”

“Don’t get me started on _you,”_ Laura said, wrinkling her nose. Stiles made a noise of disgust in apparent agreement.

“Agreed,” Darcy chimed in. “It’s hard to look Chris in the eye sometimes, and I can’t even scent what you two get up to like the others can.”

“Be grateful,” Laura told her solemnly. “Be very, very grateful.”

“We’re here,” Santi announced, distracting them from the argument that had been about to commence. He pushed past the final layer of undergrowth, leading them through it. Darcy felt the wards that shimmered over their skin as they passed, ancient wards that had been built deep into the land.

She nearly missed a step in surprise when the Gonzalez’s home came into view. This far into the jungle, she hadn’t expected much, but the pack house here rivaled the size of the Hale’s back in California. Low and sprawling, it was lit in warm welcome behind the gathered pack waiting for them on the back patio.

Santiago had explained on the way that his family ruled most of El Salvador’s supernatural areas, between his mother’s central territory and his sister and brother’s neighboring sectors that bordered hers. His older siblings had both presented as Alphas, which would have been an issue anywhere but here. Instead, his mother had granted parts of her own territory to each of them, letting them rule those spaces and expand on their own.

It had worked well- the overall territory of the Gonzalez family had nearly doubled in the span of a few years as other supernaturals sought them out. Few in the country were stupid enough to challenge them, and those who wished to be turned eagerly joined the pack.

The result was one of the most stable supernatural territories in the world.

And after meeting the Gonzalez matriarch, Darcy understood why. Isela Gonzalez was of average height with average looks, utterly unassuming to humans. Any supernaturals with an ounce of sense, though, would feel the quiet authority radiating from the woman at a hundred paces.

She waited with unwavering patience as their group made their way to the awaiting pack, dark eyes softening as she watched her son’s approach.

“Mijo,” she greeted, reaching up to cup his face in her hands. He smiled, replying to her in quick, soft Spanish, and let her pull him down so she could press a kiss to his forehead before addressing the rest of the group.

“Alpha Hale,” she said to Laura, who bowed her head. Isela turned to Darcy and Stiles. “Welcome to our home, sparks.”

“Thank you for allowing us to stay,” Darcy said, tipping her head to the jaguar shifter.

“I only wish it were under better circumstances,” Isela said with a frown. “I understand you suspect a druid assassin has fled to Laguna de las Ranas?”

“We believe so, Alpha Gonzalez,” Stiles said. He fidgeted with the straps on his bag, unable to keep still.

Isela waved a hand. “Isela, please. Let’s forget formalities. We’re all friends here, are we not?”

“We are,” Laura said instantly. She addressed Isela when she continued. “These two sparks are considered a part of my pack and family. Your assistance with these matters is considered a favor to the Hale Pack.”

“If someone is killing sparks, we would like to know as well,” Isela said unhappily. “We hid a spark here not twenty years ago. Their death was a surprise to us all, and now that you’ve shared your suspicions I fear they were a victim to this assassin as well.”

“Is there a nemeton?” Darcy asked, brow furrowed. It felt like there was one just out of her reach, flickering at the edges of her awareness.

“Yes,” Isela confirmed. “And a very powerful one at that. Laguna de las Ranas is in fact a small lake, bordered on one side by a modest mountain range and the jungle on the other. The nemeton itself was anchored to the lake by the spark we hid, though it has been occasionally temperamental since they died.”

“And hidden?” Stiles wondered quietly, ducking his head close to Darcy’s. “I can’t reach it, not quite.”

“Me either,” she agreed. “But maybe that means there’s a druid connected to it.” If someone was currently connected to the local nemeton’s power, it’s wild energy would be subdued and managed by the druid.

Hypothetically, that would mean they might be able to detect Darcy and Stiles’s presence. But the convergence’s center felt unsettled, it’s anchor unbalanced even from her distant connection to it. It felt uncooperative, like a petulant child ignoring their instructions in favor of the shiny toy just barely within reach.

Of course, this meant there was almost certainly a druid hiding somewhere near the convergence. She felt the quiet anger brimming at the surface, focused on it instead of the almost pleading tug on her conscious from the nemeton.

“That is a problem for tomorrow, though,” Isela announced, clapping her hands. The Gonzalez pack behind her beamed at them. “Tonight we’ll feed you and give you a safe place to sleep before you confront evils lurking in the mountains. Come.”

No one dared argue as she led them into the house, directing them to spare rooms with such rapid-fire efficiency that Darcy found herself sitting on a soft bed beside Bucky with very little understanding of how she’d come to be there.

“Dinner in an hour,” Bucky said, checking his rifle over with the same care that parents reserved for newborns. “What’s your plan for tomorrow?”

Bold of him to assume she had a plan.

“Find the nemeton, punch the druid, live happily ever after?” She tried. He put the rifle down and turned to her with an exasperated air.

In all honestly, she’d hazarded a vague plan on the way… one that she was certain he would never approve of. Best to keep it a surprise, she decided, to give him less time to formulate a convincing argument.

“I’m working on it,” she assured him, and hopped to her feet. “I’m going to check in with the others.” Or one person in particular, anyway.

Bucky didn’t question why it took her nearly the full hour to return to their room. Instead he was mild but watchful, like he didn’t trust her not to slip away if he took his eyes off of her for a single second. She tangled her fingers with his as they gathered with the Gonzalez family for dinner, which seemed to help.

Their hosts had gone all out. They set up long tables piled with food on the stone patio in the backyard, which was covered by nearly invisible netting that flickered white-hot in Darcy’s peripheral vision. She paused on her way to a seat, craning her neck to stare up at it.

“Magic made,” she mused to herself, feeling the brand of another’s magic against her own when she tested it.

“Spark made,” Isela corrected from beside her. She folded her hands behind her back and studied the netting with her. “His name was Faraj.”

“The spark you hid?”

“Yes. For all the good it did.”

Darcy recognized the lines of an age-old grief in Isela’s face, grief that she had seen in in countless other supernaturals who’d been alive during the purge. A hurt that never went away. A quiet remembrance of what their world had lost, a memorial held in the souls of those they’d left behind.

“Every day is a gift for us,” Darcy said quietly. “You gave him time and safety that he wouldn’t have found anywhere else.”

Isela glanced at her, some of those lines softening. “Well spoken, for one raised by ‘wolves.” Her tone was friendly, teasing.

Darcy grinned back. “Hey, your son is ours now, too.” _Ours,_ she’d come to understand over the years, was the shifter equivalent of being unapologetically ride or die for the individual, whether they were in the pack or not. It was less a claim of ownership, the way it might sound to a human, and more a statement of intent to extend their protection without expectation of reciprocation.

Isela sniffed. “He always was too friendly as a child.”

“We tried to beat it out of him,” Santi’s father said with playful regret as he joined them.

Santiago rolled his eyes as he passed by, trailed by a gaggle of his tiny nieces and nephews intent on using him as their personal jungle gym. “No, you didn’t.”

“Two of my children came into their power as Alphas,” Isela shared as her husband went to rescue Santi from the mob of children. Or maybe just to egg them on, actually.

“Not Santiago?”

Isela shook her head. “No. He was a born ambassador, always mediating fights and looking after pack members.”

“The perfect second,” Darcy murmured.

“I hardly expected him to find the Hale Alpha, much less decide to marry her.”

“He’s trying to, anyway,” Darcy said, amused. “Laura’s just being stubborn out of habit at this point.”

“But she loves him?” Isela asked, observing their intermingled packs share food and stories across the yard.

“She does. We all do.”

“Good.” Isela gestured for her to follow to a quieter corner of the yard, where a small table sat apart from the others with a clear vantage point of the rest of the yard.

Darcy tucked herself into the metal chair, scanning the yard for her family. Laura had stationed herself close to Santi so she could laugh at his struggles under the swarm of children. Peter had dragged Bucky into a friendly conversation with the other two Gonzalez Alphas, Yesenia and Xavier. Meanwhile, Stiles and Natasha had been challenged to a cartwheel competition by the pre-teens that was rapidly becoming overly enthusiastic.

“Santi’s told me a little about the troubles you’ve faced,” Isela said, watching over her family.

“Could you be more specific?” Darcy asked wryly.

Isela laughed. “The shift.”

Ah. Darcy made a face. That one was a glaring personal failure, for both her and Stiles. “What makes it possible for other shifters to transform, but not werewolves?”

Isela hummed a quiet, thoughtful noise. “No one knows exactly, at least to my knowledge. But the general suspicion is a curse to forever bind them to the moon’s pull. That’s how it started. Somewhere along the way, though, they lost access to their shifted form. It’s a terrible thing.”

“But I helped my family shift, with the nemeton in Beacon Hills,” Darcy said, turning beseechingly towards her. “I don’t know _how_ I did it, just that I can’t replicate it.” The book that Naomi had sent her, long before she’d even realized who had been sending her gifts and guidance, had simply revealed the full shift as a possibility. Darcy’s instincts and the nemeton had taken over from there.

They were quiet for a moment.

“A change in perspective,” Isela said slowly, considering, “is often the key to solving the problem we face.”

“What do you mean?”

“Talia Hale achieved the full shift on her own, correct?” Darcy nodded. “One would expect, then, that she managed to break the curse, or was exempt from it.”

“She couldn’t always do it, though,” Darcy said. “Not until a year or so before she became the Hale Alpha.”

Isela hummed a noise of agreement. “When the Hales fought Deucalion the first time.”

Darcy straightened at the mention of Deucalion, the blind werewolf that had attacked with his Alpha Pack and had been able to shift into an enormous, terrifying demon wolf. “Isn’t that when he lost his sight?”

“Deucalion broke the peaceful negotiations with Talia’s mother, the Alpha at that time. He attacked her and the other Hale Pack ‘wolves present. Nearly killed them, until the Alpha’s heir intervened and faced him. Talia fought him to a standstill- the one our world called the Demon Wolf, mind you- and made him submit. It was a humiliating defeat for him, and one he never forgot.” There was no shortage of satisfaction in Isela’s voice.

“She shifted for the first time during the fight,” Darcy recalled, vaguely remembering the story that Andrew had told them when she was young. “All the way to wolf, and brought him down.”

“Compare Talia’s successful shift to that of your pack members. What are the common denominators?”

Darcy frowned. “Deucalion.”

Isela shook her head. “He is insignificant. Think harder.”

“The territory,” Darcy said, chewing on her lip. “Both fights were in Beacon Hills, within the nemeton’s reach. A stable pack.”

“All important factors.” Isela leaned forward, braced her arms on her knees and watched Darcy closely. “What else?”

Darcy had the uncomfortable feeling that she was taking a test she hadn’t known was coming, much less prepared for. Then it clicked. “They were both defending their packs.”

“Purpose,” Isela said in firm agreement. _“Intent._ They needed to be _more_ to face the threat, and their nemeton answered. The way was cleared by you the second time, but the land knows. It remembers. The Hales have tended to their land much like we have ours, with ceaseless care and protection.”

“So when we tried using a second nemeton to help random werewolves shift…”

“You were missing the big picture. What was your intent? Fairness? Proving that you were’t playing favorites? Caving to external pressure from the packs?”

She winced at the call out, but could hardly refute it. “All of the above.”

“The land knows what its protectors need. And those ‘wolves you tried to guide to a full shift- were their hearts in the right place? Did all of them ache for a full shift in order to defend what they loved, or did they simply want to compete with the Hales? To have bragging rights for something that could be theirs if their intentions were pure?”

“Does this mean no one else can achieve a full shift unless they’re fighting?” Darcy asked, worried. The world would plunge into chaos if that were true.

Isela sniffed dismissively. “No. They need only one thing- a purpose. To answer the call from a Sentinel, one who can show them the way. They must be selfless, willing to give their lives for those who can’t fight for themselves. Why else would the land grant them such power? Too many would abuse it and those that guard the land and nemetons.

“The land knows what it needs, Darcy,” Isela finished quietly. “It’s up to us to listen to it, and protect it so it in turn will protect us.” With that, she left Darcy to come to terms with the earth-shattering revelation and everything it meant for their future.

~*~

Their group left early the next morning, headed for the mountains bordering Laguna de las Ranas. Darcy and Stiles knew to expect wards, so they’d marked everyone before leaving to be invisible to any magic or wards they might come across. Better safe than sorry.

She doubted they would come across any protective or aggressive defensive wards, at least. The druids were trying to remain unnoticed, and the backlash from those would draw attention.

It wasn’t until they crossed the invisible barrier marking the area the druids had claimed that Darcy realized the extent of their work, though. She and Stiles exchanged a look of disbelief as they passed the border of the wards and felt the true extent of the nemeton positively hemorrhaging power.

The rest of the group stopped when they did, looking at them with concern. Natasha was frowning in the direction that the nemeton rested.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky asked, gripping her elbow.

“The nemeton here is… insanely strong,” she told him, barely able to focus on anything but the urgent call of the nemeton. It had felt the sparks’ arrival and _demanded_ they come.

“Why so powerful?” Laura wondered.

“It’s one of the largest convergence sites in the world. They ley lines that feed into it stretch for thousands of miles in every direction,” Santiago answered. Then he scowled. “We thought its power was fading when we couldn’t feel it any longer. Looks like the druids had a hand in that.”

“Hiding it for their own purposes,” Peter muttered. Santiago nodded grimly in agreement.

“You said you knew where the druids might be hiding,” Stiles said to Santiago. His eyes were more gold than brown, no doubt the reaction of his magic to the nemeton’s insistent call.

“There are caverns below the mountains that connect to tunnels within them,” Santiago said. “We used to play in them when I was young, but they started caving in and trapping people. The Alphas declared them off limits after a pack member died.”

Stiles grimaced. “I don’t want to seem paranoid, but…”

“I know,” Santi assured him. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the druids were responsible. They’d want to clear the area before taking control of the nemeton. I’m just sorry we let it happen.”

“Join the club,” Darcy muttered. He shot her a sympathetic glance and led them on.

Despite the early hour, the heat swallowed the jungle with a vengeance. Already the air grew humid, thick and heavy and oppressive. She was grateful for her loose tank top, though the jeans and boots were causing some regret.

“We’re close to the foot of the mountain,” Santiago said. He frowned. “There are a couple entrances. Some may not be safe, though.”

“I think,” Darcy said carefully, “that we should split up.”

Stiles caught her eye and nodded. “Cover more ground and make ourselves a smaller target. I can go with Laura and Santiago, look for a back entrance.”

“And we can scout the front,” Darcy said. Laura eyed them suspiciously but agreed, moving off with Stiles and Santi with a reminder to be careful.

“Let’s keep moving,” she said once they’d vanished from sight, and pretended she couldn’t see the wary look that Peter and Bucky traded. Natasha only nodded and led the way, moving silently through the foliage.

They made their way towards the foot of the mountain, carefully skirting the edge of the giant lake that Darcy suspected acted as the nemeton’s anchor. Getting too close to it made her teeth buzz, like feedback from an electrical line applied directly to her pulse.

They followed Natasha, who moved towards the mountain without hesitation, like an arrow shot from a bow. As if she already knew where she was going.

The ground sloped gently upwards. They went another hundred yards or so before Natasha stopped, angling behind a tree for cover. She gestured ahead when they turned to her in question.

“Three entrances on this side,” Natasha told Darcy, who nodded.

“How do you know?” Bucky asked suspiciously.

“Because I scouted this place last night,” Natasha said bluntly. She turned to Darcy. “You were right. A couple people went in after it got dark and didn’t come back out.”

“So they’re definitely using the caverns,” Darcy mused.

“Hold on,” Peter said, catching on. “What are you planning, and why haven’t you said anything to the rest of us?”

“Because I already have a plan,” Darcy told him and Bucky, feeling braver with Natasha’s steady presence at her back. She was about to make them _very_ unhappy. “One you’re not going to like.”

Bucky looked from her to Natasha and back again. “Darcy.” It was the tone he used whenever he knew she was about to do something stupid and would not be deterred.

“Listen,” she said, going on the offensive before Peter found his voice again and started shouting. “There’s a very good chance the assassin is inside there. Which means he can kill either of you with one touch, and we wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing about it.”

Except watch them die, and that was not an option.

“He’s been killing sparks for thirty years,” Bucky said, low and urgent. “Darcy, you aren’t safe from him, either.”

“But I am,” Natasha interjected. “There’s not a single magic in this world or outside of it that has been able to touch me.”

“You don’t _know_ that-”

“I am Void,” Natasha said simply. Proudly, even, which made Darcy’s heart ache a little for her. How far they’d come. “They can’t touch me, and I can keep them off of her.”

“Anyone who gets past my shields, anyway.” Darcy looked between them. “Please. I can’t keep all of us protected, and all it takes is one slip up and you die.”

She stepped forward when they only stared at her with helpless frustration and worry. “I need you to trust me.”

“It’s not you I don’t trust,” Bucky said heavily. “We know exactly what these people are capable of, Darce. How am I supposed to just sit here and watch you walk into their territory?”

Her response was interrupted by Natasha’s hand on her shoulder. The former agent and assassin stared over Darcy’s shoulder at Bucky. “You taught me, didn’t you? Do you doubt me, учитель?”

He met her unwavering gaze and blew out a slow breath, the reminder of their shared past and pain heavy between them. “Never, Natalia.”

She smiled, small and soft. “Then trust us both to return to you.”

“Okay,” he sighed, giving in. “Okay.”

“We’ll be careful,” Darcy promised, hugging him tightly. She eyed Peter, who was tense as a bowstring. “Dad?”

“Why do you always insist on walking into trouble at every turn?” He asked tightly.

“I’m a Hale, aren’t I?”

His face went through a series of complicated emotions before settling on resigned. “Yes, I’m sure _that’s_ the reason why,” he said with reluctant amusement.

“I’ll be back, okay?” Darcy said earnestly, looking between them. “You two are the lookouts.” Peter swept her into a suffocating hug before he let her go. She felt their eyes on her back the whole way from the trees to the vaguely disguised entrance that Natasha uncovered.

“Stay behind me,” Natasha instructed. “And activate your shield.”

Darcy obeyed, letting the warm buzz of her magic settle against her skin from head to toe. “Done,” she whispered, and followed Natasha into the dark.

They’d come into the upper levels of the caverns, it seemed. Some led down into the earth, darkness swallowing the paths whole. It made her heart race to put them at her back, but the tunnels leading to the top of the mountain made it impossible to do otherwise.

There were tunnels within tunnels in this place. Long labyrinths of winding corridors that diverged and twisted around, lacing over each other into the dark until you stood no chance of finding the sun again.

Natasha seemed unworried, though, carefully selecting the paths that sloped upwards.

“How can you tell the right way?” Darcy whispered, making sure to stay close as the darkness loomed all around them.

Natasha pointed at their feet. Darcy nearly tripped over herself at the sight of tiny white flowers clustered along the path, roots dug deep into the earth and thriving despite the complete lack of sunlight. Their little petals waved lazily, swaying on healthy stalks while all other vegetation inside the mountain tunnels had dried out to crumbling husks.

“Either it’s how they mark their own paths or it’s a trap for us,” Natasha said lowly. “Either way, it’ll lead us to where we need to go.”

“Very well reasoned,” said a polite, neutral voice from behind them.

Darcy instinctively reached for Natasha, gripping her arm as figures melted out of the shadows of the tunnels around them. They wore masks of varied flora, vines and flowers and ivy concealing their faces.

But Darcy was focused on the person at their backs. She knew that voice. Had spent years listening to every word it spoke, had come to rely on the steady patience as it explained the way of their world.

Natasha kept her eyes on the others, braced to move at a moment’s notice. She didn’t move when Darcy took a deep breath and turned around, pulse thundering in her ears, and found her old teacher watching her from the shadows with a kind smile.

“Hello, Miss Lewis,” Deaton said, friendly as ever. “We’ve been expecting you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a huge surprise, I'm sure, considering my hints/foreshadowing so far were hardly subtle lol. All will be revealed in the next Darcy-centric chapter! Naomi's will be up Wednesday :)
> 
> Учитель: teacher


	25. Naomi: Preparations

**25: PREPARATIONS**

_**Naomi** _

The  _ Revenant _ cruised through the still, quiet waters outside of Basharat as they passed the enormous trade city by, a heavy fog lifting off the water that cast the twinkling city lights on the mainland in a hazy glow. The city that had been so chaotic and bustling only days ago now sat with empty docks and muted streets. An ominous sight, knowing the reason for the emptied city. 

Naomi studied Basharat from her position at the front of the ship, listening to the familiar comforting sound of the ship cleaving a path through white crested waves as they broke against the prow. Overhead, thick clouds blackened the glow of the twin moons and cast them all in deep shadows. Salt-kissed air whipped around them from Ceren’s ceaseless work, the Mage’s wind magic strained to its limits in their race against time. 

The ocean’s surface rose and fell like lungs with the rhythm of the sea’s deep breaths, the cresting waves her pulse and the soft noises the echo of souls cradled in her endless depths. Gusts of wind gave the water the appearance of shattered glass, tiny facets reflecting the weak threads of moonlight that broke through the cloud cover and refracting the rest, scattering light across glossy black depths. 

Soft footsteps alerted her to Vahid’s arrival. She turned at the gentle touch to the small of her back, leaned against him when he sighed. 

“How is he?” 

“In and out. I gave him as much food and water as he could hold down before he fell back asleep, but he won’t stay down long.” 

“Stubborn dragons,” she sighed. She’d removed the dragonglass constraints from Darius’s arms and legs, but his body needed time to heal from the damage they’d dealt. 

“The Captain?” 

Naomi tipped her head towards the rear of the ship, where Linnea stood in the shadows and stared vacantly out at the sea with a hand on her sword and the other on the rail of her ship. She’d been there for hours now, unmoving. “Still brooding.” 

“Has she shared the reason for her heavy thoughts?” 

“Nope.” Something was on Linnea’s mind, something that had made her go quiet and contemplative. Naomi could practically feel the other woman’s inner turmoil from across the ship, but all they could do was wait her out until she decided to share. 

It would take the Coalition the better part of a lunar cycle to return to Nova Solis. In the meantime, the  _ Revenant _ had to be careful to remain out of sight as they tried to overtake the armada and reach the city first. 

“I can’t believe the Coalition would actually go head to head with the dragon army,” she said quietly. Absently, she noticed Linnea speaking softly with a few crew members, signing to Ceren when the first mate joined them with a worried expression. “Why take this risk? What would make the losses worth it?” 

“They know we would never agree to trade with them,” Darius said from behind them, rubbing at his wrists as he limped over to join their vigil. 

“You should be resting,” Vahid scolded, fretting when Darius sat heavily against the rail with a pained wince. 

“I refuse to lie down any longer,” he said with a stubborn jut of his chin. “Besides, the night air clears my head.” 

Vahid kept a hand on his arm, evidently worried the Prime would tip over the edge otherwise, and smiled reluctantly. “You’ve always said so.” 

“You think the Coalition wants Nova Solis gone because you wouldn’t accept their terms?” Naomi asked. 

“They could rule the seas  _ and _ skies if we no longer existed. Nova Solis is a huge trade center, and there’s a chance that the other human cities might risk refusing the Coalition as well if they think we’d support them.” 

“Would you?” 

“Yes. We have the strength to defend our city and still send out units to protect the cities we have treaties with, if given adequate time to prepare.” 

Naomi hummed in thought. “Which cities are those?” 

“Kailua and Capolis. Adıyaman, though it’s tenuous. Depends entirely on the queens’ mercurial moods, but they like Soraya and Idri enough to hash out a new agreement with them every few solar cycles. Sova, which is small enough that the Coalition might not bother with them.” 

She hesitated, aware the topic of the Consul’s betrayal was still sensitive, but asked, “Vahid told you about our theory?”

“That Tahj and Radia are pulling the strings?” She nodded, and his shoulders drooped as he agreed, “Unfortunately, it has merit. Those two have been so very careful to appear neutral that we didn’t take a closer look at them.” 

Darius grimaced. “Though Soraya never liked Consul Radia. We all assumed it was due to the minor slight she made years ago against Idri, but my sister’s kept Radia on her watchlist since then. Which I’m sure she’ll be happy to remind me.” 

Naomi thought back to Kaveh’s words from one of the many parties early on, when he’d chased Faraco away.  _ “What Faraco forgets is that even the least royal is thrice as powerful as any of our dragonkin.” _

“Do you think Esteri and Rahim could hold the city alone?” 

“I’m not sure. Rahim is… Rahim is very sick. If he strains himself too much, his body will give out on him. I’m not sure how the magic ties into that, and I’m not particularly eager to test the limits of my brother’s life.” 

“So if Soraya or Kaveh remain in the city, they may be able to keep it afloat.” 

Darius shook his head. “Soraya will leave. She’s the General of our army, and the best singular aerial fighter of our kind. We can’t afford to keep her in the palace. They’ll know that. But Kaveh will likely stay as long as he can- for Rahim, if nothing else. I will do my best to stay close as well.” 

“If the Coalition breach the city’s defenses, can the army keep them from overrunning the civilian sectors?” 

The light thud of boots alerted them to Linnea’s arrival. “Not if they set off bombs with Cobaena smoke again. Arielle will have planned for this- she’ll definitely have a stash prepared to sack the city.” 

Vahid’s jaw worked. “And in the meantime, the Consuls will probably assassinate the remaining royals and leave the blame solely with the humans.” 

“And Idri,” Darius said, rubbing a hand over his face. “If they’re smart, they’ll go for her first. She’s more of a threat than most realize, and she’ll move first to protect the civilians.”

“So we might need non-dragon assistance to keep the pirates at bay,” Naomi said slowly, thinking hard. She glanced down at Sayali, who was sprawled across her feet and dozing after eating her body weight in fish. 

Linnea raised a brow. “You’re going to ask the Nakano?” 

“And the shifters,” Naomi decided. “They all have their own people in the city, too, so that might convince them to help. Besides, if Nova Solis falls, the Nakano city might end up damaged or buried, not to mention the damage to the Iroka Wilds, which the Nakano hunt in and the shifters  _ live _ in.” 

“It’s worth a shot,” Linnea said with a shrug. “Appeal to Kanoa’s honor regarding the treaty with the dragons, he’s very noble about that sort of thing. And let Darius ask, Prime to Chief. If  _ you _ ask, it’d just be disrespectful.” 

She then assessed Darius with a frank gaze, much to his amusement, obviously unconcerned with his royal status. Which, fair- it  _ was _ her ship, after all. She ruled here, on board the  _ Revenant. _

“Odds of you keeling over and croaking on us?” 

Darius huffed a laugh. “Slim to none. Partly thanks to you, I hear. You’ve certainly lived up to your reputation.” 

“You’re paying me a lot of money,” she said cheerfully. “Assuming our people aren’t catapulted into a world-wide war in the next few weeks.” 

“Regardless, I am grateful for your role in my rescue. And I do not take the risks you’ve faced lightly, Captain.” 

Linnea ran a hand through her short hair, the dark strands falling to her jaw along one side. The shaved half of her head had a carefully carved sea serpent curving around her ear that matched the one on her ship’s flag. It was a new addition, and Naomi wondered when the hell Linnea had had time for a haircut. But her next words made those thoughts vanish. 

“About that,” Linnea hedged. “I’ve been thinking.” Now they all watched her warily. “We need to buy time. The Coalition is too big to move as fast as we can, but I’m limited in my movements. I don’t know if we can get past them unseen, and going around will only waste time we don’t have.” 

“What are you suggesting?” Vahid asked. 

“I have a very small window to put a plan into motion. One that might slow the Coalition down. But it’s…” She winced, and Naomi noticed the bruises beneath her eyes, marks from lack of sleep and heavy thoughts. “It’s possibly going to be a suicide mission, which means you three definitely can’t be onboard when it happens.” 

“What?” Naomi asked, a thrill of adrenaline racing through her blood. “What? No, you can’t-” 

“You asked how I knew we were being followed by the Coalition’s ships before they attacked,” Linnea interrupted. “And I didn’t answer.” 

“What the hell does that have to do-” 

“I can see patterns.” A poignant silence as they stared at her with rapt attention. “Patterns in every aspect of life- in sword fights, clothing, wind and ocean currents, you name it. I know your boots will take one more lunar cycle before the soles wear thin and fray apart. I know that in fifty paces the ocean current will shift my ship approximately twenty degrees south and Ceren will correct our course within six seconds. If you attacked me right now, I would eventually be able to discern the patterns that make up your fighting style and accurately predict the next strike.” 

Naomi thought back to the way Linnea had seemed to predict every dangerous spot in the waters outside Santari, the gusts of wind between her and the Sokolov guard before she’d thrown her knife, the effortless way she outmaneuvered the ships that had attacked them weeks ago. As if she’d known what was going to happen three seconds before it actually did. 

A rough wave suddenly caught the side of the ship and nudged them left. Naomi felt a chill down her spine when Ceren’s winds corrected them seconds later, exactly as predicted.

Linnea took a deep breath when they all continued to stare at her. “When the Coalition sailed by us, I saw a way to slow them down. But the outcome isn’t set in stone. It’s wavering, which means I have a decision to make, and soon. So I need to know- can you fly back to Nova Solis?” 

“I know the way back to Nova Solis,” Darius said instantly, “but I can’t fly the whole way on my own.” 

“We can trade off to preserve strength,” Vahid suggested. “I can fly you two until you’re well enough to carry us both, Darius.” 

He nodded. “That could work. We’d need a map, some way to locate the places that would be safe to stop and rest.” 

“I have one that’s marked with safe stopping points. If you can fly past the Coalition and beat them back to Nova Solis, you can warn the city of the attack.” 

“And you?” Naomi asked, wondering at the look in Linnea’s eyes. “Are you going after Harada?”

“I still have a score to settle with Arielle,” she admitted, “but first I’m going to fuck up the Coalition’s plans so we don’t end up in a world-wide war. If we don’t die trying, I’ll find a way to let you know when I make my move.” She eyed the stars, the placement of the twin moons in the sky, and decided, “Rest here tonight. We’ll separate at dawn.” With that, she turned on her heel and stalked away.

Naomi studied the grim faces of the  _ Revenant’s _ crew only a few hours later as the early light of dawn bloomed over the horizon and set the seas ablaze with color. She’d witnessed the spectacular argument a few hours ago between Linnea and her crew- the captain wanted to drop them off and go after the Coalition alone, and they weren’t having it. She just hoped all the shouting hadn’t woken Darius. 

“Here.” Linnea slapped a scroll of parchment onto the rail, short tempered from having lost the argument with her crew. “I marked the map with all the places that are safe to stop.  _ Don’t _ stop anywhere else, no matter how inviting it looks.” 

Naomi unrolled it, scanning the thick, dark line that stretched from their current position, stopping at the random smattering of islands, and ending at Kailua. She frowned, squinting at the thin white tangle of lines that spread all over the map. “What’s this?” 

Linnea peered over her shoulder. “I don’t know. Avis gave this map to me a couple years ago and refused to explain. I have little use for it.” 

Vahid and Darius appeared before Naomi could question her further, bearing packs as Sayali herded them impatiently over to her, the Arcos having picked up on the undercurrent of tension on the ship and understanding that things were about to change. 

To Naomi’s surprise, Ceren drifted gracefully down from the crow’s nest to stand behind Linnea’s shoulder, closer to either dragon than the Mage had been during the entire trip. But their blue eyes were steady on the dragons, solemn and beautiful in a heavily scarred face. She wondered at the depth of Ceren’s loyalty to Linnea, that they would agree to face down an armada on behalf of the same race of those who’d tortured them mercilessly. 

“I’ve marked the Shiimori Islands for your next rest stop,” Linnea told Darius, who glanced at the sky to assess the stars and judge their position. “In the Atakan Sea. Is that too far?” 

Darius shook his head. “No, we can manage that. We’ll island hop for a couple days and then I’ll trade off.” He turned his clear brown eyes on her. “Captain, I thank you for your role in my rescue. Regardless of what happens, we owe you for this.”

“Two million Drams, in fact,” she said cheerfully, “which I plan to collect, so don’t let your city get all smashed up.” He huffed a laugh, shook her hand, and then it was time to go. 

“I’ll shift,” Vahid said, passing Naomi the bags. “We have a long way to travel.”

“Ceren will lift you two onto his back,” Linnea told Naomi as Vahid leaped off the side of the ship and shifted in midair, the heavy beat of his wings jarring everyone’s teeth together from the force and size of the dragon hovering above the water. Naomi gasped quietly when Ceren lifted her off the deck with a controlled cyclone of wind, steering her carefully over to Vahid’s back. 

Darius joined her in the same fashion and Vahid dipped low to pick up Sayali in his front claws. Linnea gave them a jaunty salute when they were settled. “See you on the other side.” 

Naomi’s last sighting of the  _ Revenant _ was the ship sailing at full speed, cutting through deep waters as its Captain turned them south. 

~*~ 

_ The world was a blur of fire and smoke. Sharp cracks and screaming filled the air as the earth at her feet gave shuddering heaves and threatened to crumble away entirely. Thick green smoke roiled overhead as gales of wind buffeted her body, whipping her hair into her face and stealing her breath away.  _

_ The slow, growing interest of some monstrous being that leaned against her magic, pushing and probing curiously as the sheer enormity of it threatened to buckle her knees.  _

_ She was terrified, hands shaking, breath coming in gasps, but the Goliath of magic breathing against her neck suddenly felt like the answer to a question she didn’t know how to ask.  _

_ She reached out, grasped it tightly, and felt the world explode as the molten power clashed with her spark.  _

“It _was_ a vision,” Naomi gasped triumphantly upon awakening, sitting up and trying to catch her breath. Sayali came to her feet and nudged Naomi worriedly, let her cling until her heart rate was under control again. Their small camp in the Shiimori Islands was quiet save for the small avian creatures blinking owlishly at them from the trees. 

Vahid stirred sleepily at her side on their narrow bedroll. She felt briefly guilty for disturbing him after he’d been flying for long hours the previous day. But the suns were climbing into the sky already, color seeping into the water and turning the horizon into a brilliant blur of color. 

Time to go, then. 

“Vision?” Vahid mumbled, rubbing at his eyes as he sat up with a yawn. “What vision?” Darius rolled over and focused his bleary attention on Naomi, too. She had a moment to regret her outburst- her secret spilled after  _ decades _ of keeping it under wraps, way to go- but now was not the time or place for selfish regret. 

“The bad dreams weren’t bad dreams,” she said, scrambling to her feet. She tossed scattered items aside until she found the map Linnea had given them- the map that Avis, a  _ Fae prince, _ had gifted her. 

“Fae know ley lines,” she muttered to herself, kneeling to unroll the map. She found Nova Solis and Kailua, followed the thin white lines that converged underneath the city- where Naomi had found the ley lines herself. Where she had discovered the colossus sleeping deep within the earth. 

If the Mages who’d created Nova Solis had tapped into the ley lines to lift the city into the sky… yes, that would explain where the power came from to keep it afloat- and why it took the might of a dragon to anchor it. 

Which meant that  _ she _ could tap into it, too. 

Except- the vision had felt as though the convergence would burn her alive, far too much for one person to handle. Tapping into the line that the royals maintained was one thing, but if her magic woke the rest of the convergence’s power pooled beneath the earth’s surface, it might kill her. 

“Naomi?” Vahid asked, watching her. 

“Just an idea,” she murmured, staring thoughtfully at the map. If there were some way to make sure she didn’t wake the convergence… or a way to handle it without acting as a conduit for a planet’s worth of energy… 

She mulled on the possibilities for the remainder of their journey back to Kailua, grateful that they skipped the Iroka Wilds and landed at the tiny port from where they’d left in the skimmer. Best not to stir the hornet’s nest quite yet. She could already feel the ley lines stirring, roused by the abrupt changes in the city’s anchor. 

Naomi let her magic light their path into Kailua’s port so the Nakano didn’t shoot them out of the sky. Even so, Ailani waited for them in full armor and brimming with weapons with a small retinue of warriors that watched them land with expressionless faces. 

“You succeeded,” Ailani said when Naomi stumbled over to her, legs stiff and aching from hours astride a dragon. Sayali shook herself with a disgruntled huff and trotted over to her side, leaving the dragons to shift and gather themselves and their things. “But where is the Captain?” 

“She had a different path to take,” Darius said, striding up to their group. “We separated a little over a week ago.” He inclined his head slightly. “Hello, Ailani.” 

“Prime Darius,” Ailani said, eyes flitting over the bracelet of scars around his wrists from the dragonglass chains, the hollowed cheeks and bruises underneath his eyes from the strain of their pace. 

“I would speak to Chief Kanoa,” Darius said, tall and regal. “If he agrees to see me, of course.” 

Ailani eyed him, then looked to Naomi and Vahid. Naomi met the other woman’s clear green gaze and said quietly, “It’s important.” 

She considered for another moment, the painted lines on her face fierce in the fading light. Finally, she jerked her head and stalked back into the forest. The warriors closed in around them in a guard for the trek through the jungle, a few nodding or even smiling in brief greeting to Naomi and Vahid as they returned to Kailua. 

Sayali loped ahead, tongue lolling happily at their return to the jungle and to be back on her own feet again rather than carried by the dragons. She’d been remarkably cooperative during the trip, but no predator liked being restrained for long. 

Chief Kanoa waited in the center of Kailua. Ailani and the others bowed low before he gestured for the three of them and Ailani to follow him into the hall. 

“Prime Darius,” Kanoa greeted when they were inside, hands clasped in front of him as he turned to Naomi and Vahid. “I admit I had my doubts, friends, but I’m pleased to see you were successful.” 

“Thank you,” Vahid said. He shared a glance with Naomi. “We also bring news, Chief Kanoa, of your missing Nakano people.” Kanoa’s light brown eyes sharpened and Ailani jerked in place. 

“The Sokolov Clan struck a deal with dragon conspirators,” Naomi said quietly. “Dragons kidnapped your people and sent them to the Sokolov for their ritualistic sacrifices to gain power. We witnessed it firsthand.” 

“These same conspirators have prompted the Pirate Coalition to attack my city, Chief Kanoa,” Darius said, stepping forward. “The armada set sail nearly a lunar cycle ago- they will attack any day now.” 

“If Nova Solis falls-” Ailani started, eyes wide. 

“Millions will die,” Kanoa finished for her, grim. “Both your people and mine.” He studied Darius. “I suppose that’s why you stopped here rather than immediately returning to Nova Solis. To ask for our help in a fight your people started.” 

Naomi bit her lip to keep the flood of words at bay. She wished she could see past Kanoa’s mask of neutrality, to know what he was truly thinking. 

“Chief Kanoa, my father held you and our peoples’ peace treaty in high esteem. He valued your relationship and despaired when your people became victims of dragon politics. I know he hoped to repair this damage before-” Darius cleared his throat, unable to hide the flash of pain across his face. “Before he died.” 

“Before he was murdered,” Kanoa said, twisting the knife. But Darius just nodded, the motion short and abrupt. 

“Yes. It seems as though some of the Consuls of Nova Solis have ambitions for more power, and they will watch the world burn if that’s what it takes. I regret that we did not find this plot before your people suffered for it, but I am not so arrogant to believe that your people are not valuable in a fight. I know Sargon considered you a man of honor, one he respected, and I come to you now as the dragon Prime but also as his son. I wish to do what my father did not have time to do, and repair a friendship between our people that has lasted centuries.” 

Kanoa was quiet for a long, terrible moment, before he said, “I also regretted the loss of our friendship, and mourned Sargon’s death.” He shared a glance with Ailani, who nodded sharply. “The Nakano will honor our alliance with Nova Solis. We will help you keep this Coalition at bay, Prime Darius, to keep our cities safe.” 

Naomi heaved a sigh of relief, embarrassingly loud in the empty room. Kanoa’s mouth curled ever so slightly at the corners, and he turned to Ailani. “I believe our friends in the Wilds have something at stake here, as well.” 

“Should I call them?” Ailani asked, hand dropping to a gilded horn hanging from her belt, the only one like it in the city, one that had remained untouched. It had always made Naomi wonder about its purpose. 

Kanoa nodded. “And I will prepare our people for war. Prime Darius, would you like to prepare a plan for the battle?” Darius left with him, but Naomi wanted to know what Ailani was doing with the horn. 

She and Vahid followed the warrior to the edge of the jungle, the citizens of Kailua watching with wide eyes as she pulled the gilded instrument from her belt, took a deep breath, and sounded the horn. 

Naomi shivered, the horn’s call ringing in her bones, reverberating in her lungs as it echoed through the jungle for miles and miles, the wilds stirring as though responding to the summons themselves. What seemed like hours but was hardly even minutes passed before another horn’s call answered theirs, deep and low. 

A few long minutes later, people began to materialize in the jungle, dropping gracefully from tree branches or stalking into sight in both human and animal forms. Canid shifters watched them with eyes that gleamed in the dark until finally a woman with dappled hair and yellow eyes approached without making a sound over the jungle floor. 

“You called?” Her voice was a low growl, smooth and dark. 

Ailani tipped her head in welcome. “Alpha Atreya, I have been instructed to relay a message from Chief Kanoa. The Nakano have answered a call for aid from Nova Solis; an armada of human pirates plan to attack and level the city.” 

If Nova Solis fell, much of it would land in the Iroka Wilds. The shifters living there would likely be killed or trapped by debris- not to mention their own kind that would be helpless if the city fell. Surely this would prompt a response from the lethal Beings.  _ Please, _ Naomi thought anxiously. 

“The Prime?” 

“Alive, thanks to these two, and with Chief Kanoa now.” 

The Alpha’s eyes roamed over Naomi and Vahid, lingering on Vahid. “And my son, my mate’s mother? Do you know where they are?” 

“Your… Do you mean Noor and Sonia?” Vahid asked.

Atreya inclined her head with a regal stare. “Yes.”

Naomi tried to conceal her flinch of surprise. “With Prince Rahim, Alpha. In Nova Solis, last we saw.” Nothing short of death would pry Noor away from Rahim, especially now that he’d been nearly killed, and Sonia would not have left Noor. 

Atreya nodded once. “Tell Chief Kanoa that my pack will join the Nakano in this fight. We will climb the halls of the White City- can you get a message to your people in Nova Solis to prepare for our arrival?” 

“Yes, they’ll lower the bridges.” Ailani noticed their confusion. “The Nakano in Nova Solis have rope bridges we can unroll to connect the White City to Nova Solis. It’s a dangerous climb, but we don’t have ships or enough dragons to get everyone up there fast enough.” 

“The Consuls might have dragons guarding those approaches,” Vahid said worriedly. 

Ailani smiled, wolf-like. “We are well prepared for such an attack. Have you forgotten already?” 

Naomi narrowed her eyes, not appreciating the reminder of the dragonglass bolt that they’d fired at Vahid upon their arrival in the realm. 

“Ah. Well, I can attest to its effectiveness,” Vahid said with good humor, though Naomi scowled until he nudged her with a look that said to let it go. 

“We must ready ourselves for battle,” Atreya said, turning to go. 

“Will you pass the message along to Alpha Khalil?” Ailani asked. 

Atreya paused. “The Vasu have no loyalties to anyone but themselves.” 

“They have shifters in the city,” Ailani countered. “Who will die if the Coalition succeeds- not to mention the damage to the Iroka Wilds if the city falls.” 

“I will send a messenger,” Atreya said after a long pause. “But do not expect a response.” With that, the shifters vanished back into the jungle without a sound. 

“They actually agreed,” Naomi said with relief. 

Ailani’s mouth twisted. “Don’t be fooled. They’re just as likely to take their own people out of the city and leave us to fight alone. Shifters are loyal to their kind and their kind only.” 

“Not Noor,” Vahid said. 

“Noor is a fool in love with a monster, according to his mother. She will knock him unconscious and take him away before she lets him die for his Prince.” She flicked an assessing glance over them both. “You should bathe and rest. We will move out at dawn- I’ll send someone with armor for you, Lady Spark.” She stalked away to the group of warriors waiting for her, all waiting for their orders. 

Naomi and Vahid shared a look. “A bath would be nice,” she said, thinking longingly of the peaceful bathing pools in the caverns. “But shouldn’t we get to Nova Solis now to warn everyone?” 

“I’ll sneak into the palace tonight,” Darius said when they went to ask. “The Consuls can’t make their move until the Coalition strikes or they risk being accused of murdering the royals, so they’re safe for the moment. If I can get in unseen and warn my siblings, we can prepare units to evacuate as many as we can.” 

“If the Consuls suspect we’re onto them, they may move early,” Vahid warned. 

“I helped build the palace,” Darius said. “I know of secret passages that will only open for a dragon of Sargon’s lineage. If I can get to Soraya’s quarters, we can plan for the attack.” 

“And where should we be?” Vahid asked. Darius hesitated, and Vahid scowled furiously. “I will not leave you alone to face them, Darius.” 

Darius’s voice was warm and affectionate when he said, “I know, Vahid.” Then he winced. “Which is why I must ask you and Naomi a favor.” 

“Name it,” Naomi said.

Darius turned his attention to her, grateful. “Get to my siblings and protect them from the Consuls’ assassins. Rahim and Esteri are the easiest targets, and if Kaveh’s attention is split he will be at risk as well. Soraya and I will handle the worst of the fighting, and Idri will defend the palace walls once we have the civilians hidden within.” 

“We can leave tonight-” 

“No, the Consuls will be watching them closely. If you show up they may attack. But at dawn, when I reveal my return to them-  _ that _ will be the moment to make your move.” 

“I don’t like waiting,” Vahid said, troubled. “There are so many risks, and we’re assuming that the Consuls won’t just kill them tonight.” 

“They’ve waited this long,” Darius said. “It has taken more than fifty solar cycles to put this plan into place. One more night will be nothing to them.” 

“It’s settled then,” Naomi said, a flutter of nerves in her belly. “We’ll leave at dawn.” 


	26. Darcy: Revelation

**26: REVELATION**

_**Darcy** _

It hurt more that she wasn’t surprised.

She’d quietly considered the coincidental timing of Deaton’s mysterious disappearance and the druid’s apparent involvement in the deaths of magic users. She’d wondered. Suspected.

Even those tentative thoughts had felt like a betrayal to her teacher. The man who’d taught her to control her magic, who’d urged her to let go of the past and finally accept her power. Who’d healed her scrapes and bruises without judgement or complaint until she was capable of doing it herself.

The man who’d once been her trusted friend and teacher watched her now in the dark caverns, shadows playing over his face. Both of them so very far from home. So far from what they’d both been.

She shifted on her feet, ignoring the creeping numbness that started in her heart spreading through her body. “Deaton.”

He smiled at her as though they were back in Beacon Hills, sitting in the office of his vet clinic with her lessons and homework spread between them. It was kind and welcoming, and somehow the most chilling sight she’d ever seen.

“Miss Lewis. I’m surprised you found us so quickly,” Deaton said amiably. “You’ve grown a great deal since we last met.”

That had been years ago. She’d been caught up in New York’s chaos and then later tangled up in the Avengers’ affairs, too busy to return home to Beacon Hills. He’d been absent from Maya and Sophia’s wedding, out of town when she’d returned home after the terrible parentage reveal at Stark Tower. Conspicuously absent every other time she’d returned to Beacon Hills, she realized now.

She and Stiles hadn’t asked for his help since they were teenagers. Perhaps they’d known even then how futile it would have been. 

The others surrounding her and Natasha didn’t speak, remained motionless and silent beneath their masks. It felt as though they’d been hemmed in by living statues, but she felt the quiet thrum of power they were connected to, the nemeton locked down tight between the six of them.

Darcy looked around, wary. She obeyed when Natasha nudged her back, away from the four druids looming in the dark behind her. She felt like a lost, scared little kid again. She knew from past experience that everyone seemed ten feet tall when they had her trapped in the dark, and these cavern tunnels were narrow and suffocating enough that she felt very small.

“I don’t understand,” Darcy said, cursing herself when her voice wavered.

Deaton never lost his smile. “I know. I will explain everything, I promise. But first, you and your friend should follow me. These tunnels can be quite confusing if you don’t know the way.”

He turned, walking calmly away, not even bothering to check if they were following. But what choice did they have?

Darcy shared a quick look with Natasha, who nodded tightly, her attention never leaving the druids clustered behind them. Her back covered, Darcy trailed Deaton through the winding tunnels, following so many twisting paths that she started to suspect this was an attempt to disorient them. Finding her way back out would be very, very difficult, if it weren’t for her confidence in Natasha’s skills.

She could tell they were climbing higher into the mountain, and paused briefly at the roar of water somewhere to her left- the sound of a waterfall, she thought, wondering if there was an opening nearby.

To her surprise, the final tunnel gaped open into a wide room. Here, they were closer to the surface. Sunlight streamed through small gaps in the mountainside, casting light upon the perfectly comfortable room that held a long stone table that sat low to the ground. The other side of the room was empty but for the glimpses of stone and half-covered markings on the floor.

Everywhere she looked, there was growth. Tiny stalks inching through the loose dirt beneath her, tangled vines clinging to the walls, flowering plants eagerly falling through the openings. Growth and life blooming in the presence of killers. She didn’t miss the irony.

At the mouth of the tunnel there were perimeter wards, a series of runes etched above the opening that would alert them to the presence of another supernatural. She felt it flicker over her skin and flare a warning.

There was no warning when Natasha stepped through. Good. With any luck, they’d write her off as a human. Even if they did recognize the Black Widow, no one outside of the Hale Pack and Jane knew about Natasha’s own powers.

The druids poured into the room behind them. Natasha neatly sidestepped so the druids would have to lunge to be within arm’s reach of either of them, keeping Darcy at her back at all times. Darcy was so grateful for her presence she could have cried.

Deaton stood silently as the other druids settled comfortably at the stone table, all of them gathered on one side to face her, relaxed on their cushions and identities safe behind their masks. Their stances told her that was _their_ domain, a place where they ruled alone.

“You said you would explain,” Darcy said when the silence stretched on. She had to make a conscious effort to unclench the fists at her sides. Her nails left little crescent shaped indents in her palms that were certain to bruise.

“I will. However, before I begin, I must ask that you step into the warded circle behind you.” He gestured to the markings she’d seen earlier, half covered by dirt and plants. “You understand.”

She felt a flicker of helpless rage at the careful runes etched into the stone buried beneath it, designed to keep the one within trapped and defenseless with no access to their own power.

“You’re kidding,” she said flatly.

“It’s no longer up to me, I’m afraid,” Deaton said, rueful. She stared at him, the riot of her emotions _screaming_ now, betrayal and fury that made her tremble in place.

“If you want your answers, you will cooperate,” a female druid said coldly.

Darcy warred with herself, fought the sudden, vicious urge to blast them all right here and now out of sheer, seething hate. But she wanted answers. _Needed_ them, and they knew it.

“Fine,” she said finally. A quick, subtle slick of her fingers told Natasha to stay back. If it came to it, the Void could break through the wards with laughable ease. Best to keep her ace hidden, for now.

Natasha positioned herself between the circle and the tunnel mouth, close enough to defend Darcy from an attack in all directions but far enough that she’d have time to react to any surprises. The druids mostly ignored her, though Deaton watched her with some speculation.

Darcy gritted her teeth and stepped into the warded circle, hissing in discomfort when the warmth of her magic vanished from reach. It made her want to shake; so many threats in here with her, so close, and her with no way to defend herself. It made her think of a room filled with echoes of slaughter and the metal bite of chains around her wrists, of ruthless hunters and a demon clawing for her with desperate hunger and malice in its eyes. The scar on her leg ached.

Deaton watched her as if he knew what she was remembering. She scowled, not wanting to see the apology in his face.

“Well?” She demanded. “I’m in the wards. Start talking.”

He cleared his throat, hand folded in front of him like this was one of his lectures back in Beacon Hills. Unflappable as ever, she thought with hurt and disgust.

“I understand that you’re angry,” he said. “But there are things you don’t understand. There are reasons why we do the work we do.”

“We? Who is we?” She snapped.

“We are called the Druidic High Order,” Deaton said, gesturing to the impassive druids sitting behind the table. “Our Order is an organization dedicated to maintaining the balance in the world. Those of us gathered here today are the leaders of the DHO.”

 _Druidic High Order._ The words made her go cold. A secretive society made up of spies and sleeper agents, monitors of the powers all over the world. People who’d taken it upon themselves to intervene when they lost their hold over that power.

“Too much power in one place,” he continued, “disrupts the balance of the world.”

Darcy’s lip curled. “You mean sparks.” 

“They are one example,” Deaton said agreeably. “But occasionally a witch, a druid, a shifter will lose control. They start drawing attention to themselves, endangering all of us. You must understand- so many of our kind lose control of their power. It threatens the balance we must maintain between the human world and our own.”

“Sparks used to do that,” she said quietly.

“Power corrupts, Miss Lewis,” he said, firm and resolute. “And when one such as a spark, one with inconceivable power, falls prey to unavoidable human flaws, we all suffer for it.”

“How can you say that?” She demanded, lurching forward angrily and nearly smashing into the barrier that kept her trapped within the wards. “Sparks are the ones who _kept_ the balance. They were protectors and emissaries and…”

She trailed off with a new realization. “And now druids are the emissaries,” she said, almost to herself. “Now druids are stationed with every pack across the continent, maybe even the world.”

Deaton shifted on his feet. “We filled in the regrettable gap left by the sparks’ absence. The balance must be kept.”

“And the nemetons in all those packs’ territories? Was that just a convenient perk?” The purge of sparks hadn’t just been a massacre- it’d been a fucking _coup._ A deliberate decision to orchestrate their downfall, to step in and take over the nemetons that boosted a druid’s magic.

“It was necessary, I’m afraid. An unstable nemeton can cause a great deal of chaos.”

 _No shit,_ she wanted to say. Unstable nemetons were a lure for supernatural creatures, both sentient and not. It was a literal beacon for anything non-human to come to its territory.

She wondered now if the beacon was actually a desperate call for a spark, for one who could anchor it and protect the territory.

“So all these packs you’re now emissaries for, do they know? Are they aware of the DHO and its mission?” Darcy asked.

“A few Alphas have expressed interest in supporting our cause,” Deaton said carefully.

“And in return, you… what? Make their enemies disappear? Help them expand their territory, find a nice stretch of land with a nemeton and take it?”

“Packs and their Alphas change often,” Deaton said evenly, unconcerned with her hostility. “Occasionally someone has to step in to enforce order.”

“Let me guess, you’ve got hunters in this too, don’t you? A mutually beneficial arrangement?” If druids wanted land with a nemeton, they could dispatch hunters to wipe out the Alphas or entire packs holding it. In return, they got to kill their targets without any oversight.

“Some hunters have similar views. They wish for peace as well.”

“This isn’t peace!” Darcy shouted. “This is _murder,_ plain and simple!”

Packs and hunters. Who even knew how many druids scattered with their orders, reporting back to the DHO. The size of the network they must have now, connections in every corner of the world. Nemetons everywhere under their control, giving them access to an earth magic so strong it could span states. Oceans. Continents.

“The loss of a few for the lives of many,” Deaton said. “It’s regrettable, but necessary.”

“A few?” Darcy asked dangerously. “How many deaths are you responsible for? How many sparks died at your hands?” She paused, a sudden, terrible thought occurring to her. “You came to Beacon Hills after Stiles’s mother did.”

For the first time, Deaton looked away. “I did.”

The room was silent. Natasha watched the druids with open distaste. They ignored her still, unreadable behind their masks as they focused on Darcy, on the spark snared in their trap.

“What did you do?”

He said nothing. Darcy felt the rage surge to life again, wanted to throw something, to scream at him.

“What did you _do?”_ She repeated, the words clipped and short with her barely concealed fury.

The female druid from earlier spoke again. “He reported the sighting of a spark, as he was ordered to do.”

Another druid spoke. “He did so without alerting her to his presence, and even managed to insert himself with the local pack without drawing suspicion.”

They were talking about a woman’s murder as though the man responsible should be commended for it. Like he’d performed some clever trick by infiltrating a stable territory and betraying the trust of her family.

“She suspected enough to hide her son,” a third druid said, disapproving. “He hid from our sight for years, and now look at him.”

Darcy ignored them. She kept her eyes on Deaton, hoped her gaze burned him. “Did you kill her yourself? Or did you stand by and watch while an assassin murdered an innocent woman?”

“Deaton is a non-combatant operative,” the female druid said again with a wave of her hand. “He monitors and reports.”

“Monitors and reports,” Darcy scoffed. “You mean spies on people who trust him.”

“With the intention of keeping the world balanced,” Deaton said quietly.

Darcy shook her head, disgusted. “All this balance bullshit, was it just an excuse to get out of helping us? You didn’t lift a finger when the Fae took Lydia. You did the bare minimum against the Alpha Pack. Did you even look for me when Gerard Argent had me kidnapped?”

“He did as he was ordered,” a druid said, unaffected. “Deaton is one of our best.”

“He failed when it mattered,” another snapped. “He failed his most important mission.”

Darcy tore her eyes away from Deaton’s face. She stared at the creeping, curling masks slithering on the druids’ faces. “What was his mission?”

“You,” a druid said. “You were his mission.”

Darcy was frozen in place. If the DHO had known she existed, they would have sent someone after her, probably to make her disappear like countless others. They wouldn’t have cared that she was only a child, recently orphaned and stumbling through the woods alone.

“You weren’t there when Kate Argent attacked the Hales,” Darcy said slowly. Deaton studied a spot over her shoulder and didn’t react. “Where were you that night?”

“He’d left to look for you, of course,” someone said, and suddenly breathing was impossible. “He felt the nemeton react to someone else in its territory, so he went to track you down.”

“Not fast enough,” someone else muttered.

Darcy’s ears were ringing. She stumbled back, bumped into the warded barrier at her back and barely felt the sting of the backlash. “You were coming to kill me,” she whispered. “Before I could reach the Hales.”

“Talia Hale would have suspected something if you were taken out of her reach,” a druid said sourly. “Once they had you, we couldn’t touch you or the Stilinski boy.”

Talia Hale’s reputation, the pack that had become her family, had saved her life the same night she’d saved theirs. She could appreciate the symmetry of it, but her quiet horror overshadowed it here and now.

How many young sparks, barely aware of their own magic, hadn’t been so lucky? How many had the DHO reached first?

They’d stationed druids all over the world, had used secret government agencies to find their targets, had sent an assassin who could kill with a single touch. So many dead, and all for the druids to take control in every way they could. All in the name of _balance._

“So instead you taught me all the wrong things,” she said, sick to her stomach. There was a terrible grinding against her lungs, as though her ribcage had constricted. “Was that also necessary?”

Deaton finally met her eyes. “Do you know what the most dangerous thing in our world is?” She said nothing, just glowered. “Sparks, Miss Lewis. Sparks upset the balance, the natural order of things.”

“How can you say the magic we’re _born with_ is unnatural?” She demanded.

“There is nothing subtle about your magic. You are all walking bombs waiting to go off. The destruction that you are capable of is a threat to everything we are.”

“We aren’t the ones killing people at will,” she said acidly. “All we ever tried to do was help.”

“And look what you’ve done,” a druid interrupted. “Causing unrest in werewolves everywhere by refusing to help anyone but the Hales shift. Sticking your nose into a vampire civil war and risking the statute of secrecy. Encouraging young druids to go against our ways. Getting involved with the Avengers. Overthrowing both Fae realms and putting friends on the thrones.”

“Don’t be absurd. I didn’t _put them_ on the thrones,” Darcy argued. “They earned that themselves. They _had_ to, or the Fae would have eaten them alive.”

“Did you or did you not help kill the former Seelie Queen?”

“I provided assistance to her daughter when she asked,” she said, arms crossed. “Which I’m permitted to do when an ally comes to me for help.”

“You hold enough power and influence to tip our entire world into ruin,” Deaton said. “It is not a risk we can allow to continue.”

“So, what? You’re going to kill me?” Darcy scoffed to hide the sudden spike of fear. “You think I haven’t prepared for this?”

“I’m afraid we cannot allow you to leave,” Deaton said, genuine sorrow in his voice.

Natasha watched the room like a hawk for any signs of movement. Darcy scanned the faces of the druids behind the table. “You never explained the killings. Which of you is the assassin?”

“Only a rare few are capable of that magic,” Deaton said, apparently willing to share details to someone they planned to kill in a few short moments. “It is cultivated within only one lineage of druids. They have worked with DHO for decades.”

“We recalled him when we heard you had left New York,” the female druid said, something like boredom in her voice. “Don’t worry. He will make it quick.”

In the darkness of the tunnel, a figure bled out of the shadows. The man paused at the entrance, perfectly composed as he waited for his orders. He had features so average that Darcy thought she’d forget what he looked like only minutes after meeting him, bland and unremarkable. But something in his eyes, in the way he watched them, scared her.

This was a man who’d kill without hesitation or remorse. Not for fun, not because he enjoyed it, but because he did what he was told to do and regretted none of it.

Darcy held her breath, waiting for the order to be given. For the room to explode into movement, the druids to attack, Natasha to break her out and then start dropping people.

But a light in the tunnel behind the assassin made them all pause.

She watched in disbelief as Stiles strolled casually into sight, hands in his pockets as he whistled a cheerful tune. His spark wrapped around him in a bright shield of power, the source of the light battling back the darkness.

The assassin edged sideways, closer to the druids, and watched him warily. Darcy felt her stomach drop as the plants in the room started to move, roused by the druids connected to the most powerful nemeton on the continent.

Stiles halted in the tunnel mouth, taking in the scene with a sweeping glance. “Huh,” he said thoughtfully. “How’d I know that we’d find you here, Deaton?”

“You have always been clever, Mr. Stilinski” Deaton said. The tension in the room was rising, stretched tight and poised to shatter at any moment.

Stiles glanced at Darcy, taking in the wards at her feet with a considering frown. He seemed more interested in the dimensions of the room and the location of the circle than the actual wards. She wondered what he was up to- knew for certain that he’d never wander in here without a plan.

The light in the room dimmed suddenly. Darcy glanced to the windows of light she’d noticed before, nerves rising when she saw the plants pouring through the openings. At their feet, the earth moved, slow and subtle, and many of the vines suddenly had sharp thorns on the stalks.

“All right, all right,” Stiles said, holding his hands up. The tension spiked. “Take it easy.” He stepped carefully through the tangle of plants, pausing briefly to murmur something indecipherable in Natasha’s ear before stepping through the warded circle. He grimaced as the wards stripped his spark from his reach, leaving him as defenseless as Darcy.

“What are you doing?” She hissed under her breath.

“Trust me?” He murmured back, bumping into her. She let him nudge her back to the very edge of the circle, wondering why the hell he was so worried about their position in the trap.

“You know I do,” she muttered, gripping his wrist when the nerves fluttering in her belly spiked.

Suddenly, without warning, Natasha bolted into the tunnels.

“After her! Don’t let her escape!” The druids shouted, and the assassin sprinted into the darkness without hesitation. Darcy heard their footsteps for only a moment before they vanished into the winding tangle of the tunnels. 

There were all kinds of echoes in these tunnels. The whisper of plants, the dirt overturning at their feet, the eerie sounds of water roaring just at the edge of her hearing.

She stared at Stiles, heart racing as the druids closed in around them, no doubt to ensure the wards remained intact. She shifted her grip so they held hands instead, smiling uncertainly at the other spark.

The two of them stood tall and unafraid, the last of their kind. Two sparks who’d beaten the odds, creatures of magic who’d been hunted every day of their lives. They were surrounded by killers, druids who had quietly slaughtered their way through everyone who posed a threat to their control over the power on every continent.

This is what it had all boiled down to- power, and the lengths people would go to in order to keep it.

To her surprise, Stiles pulled her close, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and tucking her into him. The druids stared with suspicion, but it was Deaton who said, too late- “In his hand!”

Stiles grinned in triumph and pressed the remote detonator he’d pulled out of his pocket. Darcy barely had time to realize what had happened before the ground rumbled beneath their feet, and the room exploded.

There was a moment of suspension, the world slowing to a dull pulse in her ears. Her heartbeat was a distant boom of thunder, drowned out by the chain reaction of explosions.

The floor under them gave way.

Darcy yelped in shock, clinging tightly to Stiles as they fell. She felt his magic flicker to life around them as the base of the wards dissolved, apparently not protected against military grade explosives.

The landed half-buried under the rubble in a tunnel under the room. She heard shouting above through the ringing in her ears as Stiles dragged them out of the pile of rubble and down the tunnel.

“Come on, hurry!” He kept her hand in his as he ran, eyes glued to the walls. She caught sight of markings at each intersection and felt a flash of relief. Apparently he’d taken the time to mark the way out. Typical Stiles, she thought with a flash of gratitude. Always with the plan.

She realized suddenly that he was leading them towards the sound of the rushing water. They skidded around a sharp corner, grappling at the walls for balance.

Shouting echoed through the tunnels behind them, close enough that Stiles swore. The dirt beneath their feet felt unsteady, plants clinging to their feet while they ran as though trying to slow them down.

There was a strange, fierce lightness beating in her heart that matched the savage joy twinkling in Stiles’s eyes when he turned to grin back at her.

The walls around them grew damp, the dirt turning to mud and then puddles of water on stone. Ahead of them the waterfall raged, drowning out all other sound in the tunnels. The trickles of water grew deeper.

Stiles didn’t slow down.

She kept pace with him, kicking up a spray in the ankle deep water. Stiles gripped her hand tighter, glancing back once to check on her, and then hauled her through the waterfall with a shouted order to, “Jump!”

Darcy obeyed without thinking about it, trusting him to get them out. She immediately regretted it when their lunge took them through the waterfall and off of a ledge.

For a moment they seemed to hang above the void. The waterfall at their backs, the mountain behind them, and the empty space they’d just leaped into.

And then they fell.

The lake at the foot of the small mountain rushed up to meet them. Wind rushed in her ears, dragging at her clothing. She felt her magic surge to life when she reached for it, could have cried in relief as they hurtled towards the smooth waters below.

She wrapped a shield around her skin and hit the water with a violent plunge. Stiles glowed brightly beside her under the water, gesturing wildly for her to swim away with him.

Darcy shoved aside the lingering panic and terror from her abrupt introduction to cliff diving and followed him to shore. Wrapped up in her magic like this, it was easy to feel the heart of the nemeton all around them. For all its power though, it was contained, locked down by the druids controlling it for their own use.

They made it to shore without anyone following them over the ledge. Maybe the druids hadn’t realized they’d be insane enough to jump, she thought with a wild laugh. Then again, Deaton should have known them well enough to expect insanity.

Speaking of which- “Where’d you get the explosives?” She asked breathlessly, panting for breath as they staggered to shore. She’d dropped her shield as they stumbled out of the water, which in hindsight was a mistake. Her waterlogged shoes squished with every step.

“Your weirdo boyfriend brought them,” Stiles said, breathing hard. “And you guys say _I’m_ paranoid.”

She couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of her, relief and exhaustion mingled together.

Stiles led the way into the forest. She paused, though, and looked back across the lake. “Natasha?”

“Luring the assassin deeper into the caverns,” Stiles said over his shoulder. “And taking him out when she gets him alone.”

“But what if she can’t find the way out?” All her worries bubbled to the surface. She trotted after him, grabbing at his arm to pull him back around to face her. “What if the druids catch up to her? Or what if we were wrong and the assassin’s magic _does_ work on her?”

Stiles looked over her shoulder. “Darce-“

“We have to go back, Stiles,” Darcy insisted.

“I’m insulted in your lack of faith, solnishka,” Natasha said from behind her. Darcy swallowed a yelp of surprise as she whirled around. Natasha raised a brow, looking as cool and composed as ever.

“What happened? Are you okay?” She asked, moving forward.

“I’m not dying, if that’s what you’re asking.” Natasha gently ushered her along. Darcy made a noise of aggravation, and Natasha rolled her eyes but continued. “I’m fine. I was able to follow the path we followed into the mountain.”

“And the assassin?”

A smile curled the corners of Natasha’s mouth. “Which one?”

Stiles grinned back at her. “Let me guess. You were better?”

“He’d lost before we even started,” she said. “His power couldn’t touch me, and he didn’t know what to do without it. Stupid.”

She _seemed_ okay, Darcy thought. But she also knew that Natasha didn’t take a life easily after her years with the Red Room, the KGB, and Shield. For her to do so now, to deliver a quick and cold death in a dark cavern underneath a mountain, must have felt like the life she’d tried so hard to leave behind.

Natasha caught her worried expression and shook her head. “Not the same,” she murmured, soft enough that Darcy could barely hear. “I know the difference between a hit and stopping a killer.”

“Still. I’m sorry we put you in that position,” Darcy said, rueful.

“I chose to be here,” Natasha reminded her. “With the full knowledge that I might be the only one the druids couldn’t touch. I knew what I would have to do.”

Darcy still frowned though, something like guilt sinking in her stomach. Natasha lost patience and swatted her upside the head.

“Hey!”

“This is my world, too,” she said sternly. “I made a decision to help you and your pack protect the ones in it, and that’s what I did today. No more angst, you’re giving me a headache.”

“Okay, okay,” Darcy laughed, ducking out of reach. The weight on her lungs dissolved with the humor in Natasha’s eyes, with her small, genuine smile.

Relief made her giddy. Despite all the horrific revelations of the day, the atrocities freely admitted by druids who’d pretended to be their friends and allies for years, she wanted to drop to the ground and laugh.

They’d been trapped in a warded circle, utterly helpless. And then- the room exploding around them, the floor disintegrating under their feet. Falling. Running. Jumping through a waterfall and off a cliff.

They’d made it out _alive._ She wondered if the DHO even realized the mistake they’d just made by letting them live- by not just killing them outright, without all the gloating and condescending lectures.

Because now, armed with knowledge of the Druidic High Order and their secrets, a spark and a Void at her side, the Winter Soldier and three high-powered shifters waiting for her ahead, Darcy felt the tides turn.

Felt the change in the winds, an intensity blooming through the air, as though the world knew what was to come and welcomed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my GOD I've been waiting to get to this for so long. Pretty sure it was the first scene I ever wrote for this fic lol.


	27. Naomi: War

**27: WAR**

_**Naomi** _

Naomi had been in her fair share of fights in her lifetime. She’d grown up in a society that despised her for the color of her skin, for her sex transition, for her confidence as a woman, for the magic she held and the Fae man she’d loved. From schoolyard skirmishes to battling Unseelie Fae at a Hellmouth, Naomi had gone to the mat time and time again, fighting for every inch of ground, for every piece of herself that she refused to yield. 

But she’d never walked into a fight of this scale, had never willingly gone to war for people she’d known for only a fraction of her life. Her mother had always said she had a big heart, bigger than she knew what to do with, and now Naomi reluctantly had to agree, lying in bed with Vahid warm at her side as they waited for the suns to rise and war to find them at last. 

Fear was a hurricane inside her, expanding inside her chest until her lungs ached with the need for air, for a breath deeper than the shallow inhalations she’d managed for hours now. It was an iron band around her chest, as constricting as a boa winding its way around her and squeezing hard. 

Vahid’s hand wrapped around hers and suddenly she could breathe again, the fear shrinking back from the simmering heat radiating off of the dragon who turned his head to watch her with silver eyes. 

“I’ve never gone to war before,” she whispered. “There’s so much at stake.” So many people she’d come to care about, people who would be in the midst of the fighting tomorrow, going up against merciless pirates with guns and cannons and-

“I’d say you get used to it, but that would be a lie.” Vahid’s voice was bleak enough that she rolled over, landing mostly on top of him, and stared down at his face, so dark and lovely in the shadows of the room. 

How could she forget that he’d been to war before, when King Cyrus of Ancient Persia had once leveraged his own child’s life for Vahid’s cooperation in conquering the lands of his enemies? Wounds that weren’t centuries old, not for Vahid, who’d been trapped in stasis by magic until she’d accidentally woken him and somehow convinced a dragon shifter to battle the Unseelie Fae with her. His life must feel like one giant looming war after another. 

But how far they’d come, she mused as she brushed the back of her fingers over his cheekbone. He leaned into the touch, eyes drifting closed.

He caught her hand, eyes opening to stare at her with open regret. “I’m sorry I dragged us to a realm on the brink of war that we’re now caught up in. So much for a peaceful adventure.” 

“Peaceful was never in the cards for us,” she said, mouth tugging up into a smile. “I’m a spark, Vahid, don’t you know trouble follows us around?” 

“Oh,  _ now _ she admits it.” 

She grinned down at his exasperated eye roll, the reluctant smile he tried and failed to hide. “Besides, I think we’re here for a reason.” 

“Like fate?” He hummed thoughtfully. “You believe in it?” 

Naomi was suddenly serious, remembering the young woman she’d been. The one that, after losing Alec, she’d regarded as naive for being stupid enough to believe in fate or that it had any care for her. After something bitter and wounded took root inside her, anchored by loss and pain and grief. 

Vahid had dislodged those roots, though. Vahid and her parents and Darcy and Stiles, these people that she loved and who loved her enough in return to keep her afloat when the grief tried to take her under. 

She took a breath, shaken by the realization that those last few clinging roots had broken free at last, overwhelmed by the stubborn, unyielding force from those same people. It was like standing straight and unburdened after years of living with the weight of the world on your shoulders, like coming up for air after being underwater too long. 

She thought of fate and what it meant to her now. 

Good and bad and everything in between, rising and falling like the change of the tides. An endless tug-of-war, one triumphing over the other until the currents shifted once again. She’d rediscovered her appreciation for the delicate balance, even admired the forces of the universe at work- and finally understood the part that she played in it, too. 

Fate was fate, unchangeable except in all the ways that it was- if you cared enough to try. 

Nothing was set in stone, the future written and rewritten by those brave enough to take a stand, those kind enough to reach out, those who stood together against hate because every little bit counted. Because of the people who understood that, no matter how they wished to change the future, it was the  _ now _ that mattered the most, the present and people in it. 

Blue-black shadows met hazy golden light from the magic winding around her fingers, in this patch of time and space where everything was soft and muted. Naomi swallowed past the lump in her throat, said, “I do,” and meant it. 

~*~ 

They left before the first fingers of dawn reached across the sky. Vahid’s black scales glimmered in the fading moonlight as he flew them to Nova Solis under the cover of darkness, Sayali clutched once more in his claws and Naomi perched comfortably on his back. 

She adjusted her leather armor made of raptor hide and the daggers on her belt that glowed softly in the dregs of the night. They passed the roaring falls, the White City hidden behind the torrent of water, its towering halls now filled with Nakano warriors and packs of shifters. There was a flash of pink as an Ocak hurtled past them bearing another communication from the people waiting in the city for the command to move. 

Vahid climbed higher, keeping to the deepest shadows clinging to the rock walls on their left and finally escaping the vertical tunnel below Nova Solis. They broke the surface, aiming for the floating city above.  Naomi saw stars flung like jewels from one end of the earth to another, curving over the black glossy sea and the hazy lights from Nova Solis overhead. 

She tapped the rune painted on Vahid’s shoulder to camouflage their approach and brief journey over the city lights, heading for the palace in utter silence. She took a breath to steady herself, nerves rising as Vahid swooped low, circling a side entrance mentioned by Darius before he’d left the previous night. 

As promised, the balcony doors to Kaveh’s room were left unlocked. Sayali nudged them open and bounded joyfully through to greet Noor, startling Rahim and Kaveh when four hundred pounds of Arcos barreled into the room. 

Vahid shifted in midair after Naomi slid off of him, landing gracefully on the railing in a crouch before leaping off to follow her into the room. “Where is Esteri?” Vahid asked as Naomi tossed her hood back and went immediately to ward the room. 

“She refused to leave Ziadie,” Kaveh explained, lunging forward to hug Vahid tightly. His voice was choked with tears when he said, “Darius found us last night. Thank you, Vahid.” 

“You are my family,” Vahid said, drawing back to cup the royal’s face with open affection. “I would do nothing less for any of you.” 

“Did the Consuls try anything else when we were gone?” Naomi asked over her shoulder, painting runes on Kaveh’s walls with a small jar of paint from her belt, courtesy of the Nakano. Her fingers were stained scarlet and smelled of the sweet ebros berries used to make the dye, the scent thick enough to make both Noor and Sayali sneeze and back away. 

“Not with Soraya and Idri sticking close,” Kaveh said. “Though Esteri did have to hurt a Consul early on when they tried to threaten Ziadie. They were stupid enough to try and order her out of the room so they could question him. That Consul is still in the infirmary, to my knowledge.” 

Rahim’s brows drew together as he clutched the arms of his wheelchair. “Which they are now using as further evidence for their claims that we care more for non-dragonkin than our people.” 

“If they reside in Nova Solis, then they  _ are _ our people,” Kaveh snapped, then abruptly ducked his head, abashed. His shoulders drooped. “Which you know and believe, too. Sorry, Rahim.” 

Rahim smiled softly at his twin, having forgiven the slight before Kaveh had even finished speaking. “All of our nerves are worn thin,” he said gently. 

Naomi pressed a hand to the line of runes on the wall and sent a pulse of her magic through them. They glowed red-gold before fading out of sight as the others watched her curiously. “Room’s warded. No one can get in here if they plan to hurt any of you. I’m going to bring Esteri and Ziadie up here- they’ll be safer with us.” 

Vahid frowned. “Where is Sonia?” 

Noor lifted his head. “Sneaking citizens into the lower levels of the palace so they’ll be safe when the Coalition attacks. She’s also organizing the Nakano in the city according to whatever Chief Kanoa sends her. But she left that for you, Naomi.” He pointed to a wrapped bundle near the door, which turned out to be a shirt of black dragon scale armor overlaid on a crimson shirt that looked  _ incredibly _ menacing. 

“Busy lady,” Naomi said with admiration, and swapped her leather armor for it before she crept out the door. The halls were eerily empty, so quiet that each footstep, each breath, sounded overly loud. But she made it to the prison uncontested, trotting quickly down the winding stairs as the torchlight flickered ominously along the walls. 

Esteri scrambled to her feet at the sound of Naomi’s approach, her pupils dilating dangerously as heat blasted off her in warning. The fight abruptly drained out of her when Naomi rounded the corner, hands lit with a golden glow to light the way. 

“Someone in need of a jailbreak?” She asked, cheerful. Ziadie’s face slackened with relief. 

“Naomi!” Esteri darted forward and threw her arms around her, squeezing so tight Naomi wheezed. She released her, teary eyed, when Ziadie stood in his cell, both of them looking worn and drawn as though the confinement sapped away at their strength. 

Ziadie noticed her concern. “We had a few close calls. Your protections saved us both, Lady Spark.” He threw a glance to Esteri, and Naomi saw deep, genuine adoration in his eyes as the dragon sniffled and wiped at her eyes. “I owe you.” 

Naomi had just done a decent thing, but she had a feeling that his debt might come in handy soon so she didn’t object. Instead, she let her magic go molten hot and touched the lock on the door, satisfied when it hissed and melted instantly. 

“C’mon, you two,” she said, yanking the door open as they watched in astonishment. “The Coalition will arrive soon, and who knows when the Consuls will decide to try their luck. Your brothers are waiting upstairs.” 

Esteri clasped Ziadie’s hand and dragged him with her, sneaking carefully back to the warded rooms. Kaveh sagged with relief when they arrived, Rahim loosing a breath at the sight of their younger sister safe and whole. 

“Here’s the deal,” Kaveh said to his siblings. “The three of us have to anchor the city, so we can’t leave Nova Solis to fight.” 

“Not a problem,” Rahim muttered, glowering at his wheelchair. Noor rested a hand on his shoulder, which at least made the royal shake off his mood and listen. 

“Naomi and I will defend you in here,” Vahid added, tipping his head to Noor, “along with Noor and whatever shifters come to find him.” 

Noor’s eyes widened. “My mother is coming?” Rahim blanched. 

“She is,” Vahid said, “and Ailani believes she will come for you.” 

His mouth thinned in a hard line. “She’ll either help or she’ll leave without me,” he assured Rahim. 

“Great, like she doesn’t hate me enough already,” he said, head dropping into his hands. Noor patted him with a sympathetic grimace. 

“Sayali will also guard…” Vahid trailed off, everyone turning to see the Arcos standing at attention on the balcony, ears perked and her whole body quivering. 

Naomi rose, heart pounding, and then she heard it- a whistle as the winds picked up outside, light dawning at last and bringing with it the sound of war drums bellowing in a pink and yellow sky. 

Their time was up- the Coalition had arrived. 

The winds grew, swirling along the quiet streets as the ships neared. Naomi frowned, aware that the small Mage-made cyclones would be devastating when paired with the Cobaena smoke. If combined, they would cripple the dragons in the city. 

She whirled to Ziadie. “Go to the Ruling Council of Mages, round up everyone willing to help, and keep the Cobaena smoke out of Nova Solis.” He flinched back from her intensity, but she pressed further. “You’re still the High Mage, no matter how long you’ve been locked up, right?” 

“Y-Yes,” he stammered, glancing uncertainly at the whirlwinds outside. “The election process takes half a solar cycle, they wouldn’t have had time to replace me.” 

“Then  _ go,”  _ she demanded, pointing to the dark wave of ships on the horizon. “Or every dragon in this city will die, and the rest of us after.” 

“The dragons have insulted the Mages very badly,” Esteri said from behind him, wringing her hands. “They might refuse to help us.” 

Naomi bit back a snarl of frustration, every instinct screaming that they _needed_ the Mages to win this fight. “Assuming they aren’t  _ stupid, _ they’ll know the city will collapse and they’ll all die, too.” 

“Not if they plan to abandon us,” Noor said flatly. “Mages value their egos above the lives of many. Locking up their leader was an insult to their own standing within the city.” 

“Not all of us,” Ziadie snapped, bristling. But he still looked uncertain of his ability to persuade them. 

So Naomi gave him a lifeline. 

She drew herself to her full height and let her eyes bleed gold, magic crackling in the air around them so that every breath was charged, their blood racing in response to the power seeping off of her. 

“You tell them I demand it,” she said dangerously, “and if they wish to argue, they can leave this city now and never return.” 

Did she have the authority to make such a claim? Absolutely not, but this is what she was running with, apparently. She turned to the open doors, held out a hand, and blasted the Ruling Council headquarters with a strike of power that shook the building down to its foundations. The deafening boom from the strike echoed ominously through the city. “That should convince them of my ability to follow up on that threat.” 

Vahid smiled darkly as Ziadie cleared his throat and leaned warily away from her. “That’ll work, Lady Spark,” he said, inching back. The others watched her with wide eyes as Ziadie kissed Esteri and leaped off the balcony. 

Naomi tracked his progress all the way to the Council headquarters before nodding, satisfied, and turning back to the room. She found the others staring at her. “What? We didn’t have time to argue.” 

“I am very, very happy you’re on our side,” Kaveh said after a moment of silence. 

A sudden roar interrupted her response, a sound that made the room shiver with instinctive dread. They turned to see a massive, scarred dragon swoop overhead, its scales a deep, burnished honey color that glittered blindingly in the morning sun. 

“Soraya,” Esteri breathed. 

Naomi had a brief moment of worry- was the General planning to take on the Coalition alone?- before a gale of wind nearly knocked her over, the offset from hundreds of dragons flying out behind Soraya. The dragons wore thick armor for protection against dragonglass, many of them carrying riders. 

“The riders will dismount onto a ship and destroy it,” Kaveh explained quietly, eyes glued to the dragon army. “Then shift themselves if they can’t return to their ride.” 

Another gust of wind made the open doors rattle loudly. Overhead, a pair of dragons flew from the palace to the first sector of the city, one with glowing amber scales and the other with ivory scales and spikes the color of frost. 

“Darius and Idri,” Vahid said tightly, attention on the approaching Coalition. They’d breached the city boundaries and had split into a wide, spaced-out formation that would give the ships room to maneuver when the dragons came for them. 

It would also spread their own forces out, Naomi noted grimly, not to mention increasing the area of damage to the city. Already the bombs sounded, raining destruction down on the streets. Those who hadn’t already been evacuated to the palace poured out onto the streets and made for the palace and the dragons guarding it. A few, she noticed, shifted to give them cover. Soldiers, she realized, stationed deliberately throughout the city to assist the civilians. 

“So many,” Rahim breathed, clutching Noor’s hand as they watched the Coalition press forward, the suns’ light blackened by their massive ships so that the entire city was cast into shadow. 

Thick green smoke roiled through the air as the Cobaena bombs detonated. Naomi hissed as the dragons in the street coughed and staggered, the smoke carried further by the winds controlled by the Mages onboard Coalition ships. 

Kaveh made a sound of frustration, jerking forward as though he wanted to fly out to help. Vahid’s hand stopped him even as his jaw clenched with the same helpless anger. Naomi glanced at the Ruling Council headquarters, prepared to fully level it this time, only to finally see robed Mages pouring onto the streets, hands raised as they wielded their magics against the looming ships. 

The wall of smoke reared back, peeling away from the white stone streets as shifters and humans reached down to help their dragon neighbors to their feet and to the safety of the palace walls. 

Relief was short lived- the ships turned their attention to the Mages, firing on them instead. At the same time, Naomi flinched at a deafening crash somewhere within the palace. 

“They’ve broken in,” Noor reported from the door. “Fighters are in the upper levels of the palace, searching for us.” 

“They must have snuck around and landed on the opposite balconies.” Kaveh swore, hand on his sword. Naomi glanced outside- pirates were in the streets on foot now, battling with swords and pistols against those who hadn’t made it to the palace yet. 

She watched as Idri snaked her long, graceful neck forward and sent a white-hot stream of fire towards the offenders as Darius launched into the air and grappled with a ship trying to creep past their defenses. 

Shouting sounded in the halls, coming closer now. Noor stripped his clothes off, revealing a flash of gold-brown skin and lean muscles before he shifted into an Arcos even larger than Sayali. He shook his mottled coat out, a reddish brown color with hints of grey and black and white underneath, and blinked bright yellow eyes at them. 

Naomi had a moment of fear, a purely primal reaction, when he looked at her, and then she brushed it aside because holy  _ hell, _ no one would get past a predator this size. 

Even as she thought it, a snarl echoed down the halls outside and something enormous slammed into the wall. The doors shook with growing violence as someone tried to enter, blocked by her wards. She had a single moment of triumph before the wall shook with another blow, cracks forming in the center and spreading out with each resounding crash. 

“If they take the whole damn wall down, the wards will be obsolete!” Naomi shouted over the noise. Without the confines of the wall, the room ward would dissolve when the room itself did. 

Rahim wheeled back, towards the balcony, Noor crouched in front of him as Kaveh directed Esteri out of the way. Vahid and Kaveh stepped in front of their small group and Naomi threw up a shield just in time as the wall finally gave way, exploding inwards with the force of the dragon ripping through the stone. 

A scarlet dragon bared its fangs at them, crouched low in the halls as it shouldered its way into the room. 

“It’s Tahj,” Kaveh said tightly, and attacked. 

Tahj was halfway in the room, his bulk blocking the giant hole he’d created, and he snapped enormous jaws at Kaveh as the royal leaped into action. Kaveh’s sword was long, giving him room to maneuver, the blade forged with traces of dragonglass that seared Tahj’s scales. 

The Consul thrashed angrily, wrecking the room further. Naomi yelped in alarm as pieces of the ceiling rained down on them and nearly crushed her before Sayali shouldered her out of the way. 

Vahid snarled a warning as another dragon landed on the balcony behind them, this one a pretty shimmering blue with cobalt wings and a murderous gleam in its eyes. Radia, Naomi assumed, and she hurriedly shielded the others as Radia gripped the upper arch of the balcony wall and ripped it away, sent it tumbling onto lower levels of the palace with a resounding crash. 

She turned back, jaws open and reaching for Rahim, but Vahid barreled into her before she could try. They toppled off the balcony and out of sight. 

Naomi lunged after them, bracing herself on the ruined railing to peer anxiously over the edge. She heard a familiar growl, a massive crash, and then a pair of ferociously battling dragons swept up past the room. Vahid was larger, his reach greater, but Radia was fast and moving to kill, striking like a viper. 

“Naomi, shield them!” Kaveh shouted, and she barely had time to obey before he shifted and met Tahj’s next strike with brute force, jaws snapping down on the other dragon’s face so hard that Naomi heard the crunch with nauseating clarity. Tahj shrieked in pain, rearing back, and Kaveh followed him through the gaping hole in the wall before he could retaliate. 

Which solved the problem with the dragons, but not, Naomi realized with horror, the flood of pirates now free to seek out the remaining royals. They streamed into the room, grinning victoriously at the sight of their small group- 

-and died a swift, painful death when Noor and Sayali descended. 

The two Arcos ripped through the group with silent, deadly coordination, bringing down pirate after pirate until their blood ran thick on the floors and seeped into the rugs, spraying wildly across the walls and ceilings while they screamed in terror and pain. The Arcos’ coats were soaked with it, the air saturated with the metallic scent so that every with breath Naomi could taste blood in the back of her throat. 

But there were more pirates than Arcos, no matter how lethal the pair were, and Naomi knew that soon they’d be overrun. She looked around, hoping for an escape route for Rahim and Esteri. 

Nothing. Unless- she glanced over her shoulder and winced. The balcony would be a last-ditch effort. That was a long drop, and while Esteri could certainly fly away, getting Rahim and Noor and Sayali out would take precious time they wouldn’t have. 

They’d have to clear the halls, then.

Naomi stepped forward with grim resignation, her spark crackling around her hands as Noor and Sayali fell in ahead of her, clearing the way. She sent quick bursts of magic at the hordes of pirates clamoring outside, dropping them one at a time. But each time another took their place, brandishing their weapons so that she was forced to turn her focus to deflecting bullets and swinging swords. 

She assessed the flood of pirates and felt a bite of despair at the sheer size of the mob, knew they’d never keep them off for long. 

A growl rose above the clamor, echoing deep and furious off the ruined stone halls. Naomi wondered about the source when the screams started from the  _ back _ of the mob, a chorus of howls and snarls drowning them out as the canid shifters arrived and brought with them a bloodbath. 

She glimpsed pale yellow eyes glowing with feral rage as Alpha Atreya and her pack shredded anyone unfortunate enough to come within their reach, her dappled coat and white fangs dripping red. Noor yipped a welcome to his mother, who flicked her ears in his direction and changed course, battling through the pirates to reach him. 

The shifters were effectively thinning the mob, leaving behind bodies and sending the others sprinting towards safety with terrified looks over their shoulders. 

A boom from outside caught Naomi’s attention. She looked out of the giant windows and found Idri blasting fire at ships sailing overhead as Mages worked furiously to keep shards of dragonglass off of her. Further out Darius battled a pair of dragons with Ziadie at his side flinging his power like a whip when they tried to overwhelm the Prime. 

“More Consuls?” Naomi asked, nodding towards the brutal fight that so far had leveled an entire block. Behind her, Sayali and the canid shifters chased down the stragglers, defending the giant opening in the wall. 

“Yes,” Esteri coughed through a cloud of dust. She pointed in the opposite direction to where a rust-colored dragon battled another in mid-air. “That’s Faraco, fighting one of Tahj’s minions by the looks of it.” Well, that answered the question of his involvement with this plot, at least. 

But she still didn’t have to like him.

“We need to get out of here,” Naomi said, assessing the battleground that was now Nova Solis. “We can’t hold this position any longer.” 

Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of Vahid, still fighting Radia high above, caught in an aerial combat so ferocious that it made her stomach lurch. 

“They’re overrunning the city,” Rahim said despondently, staring out at the columns of smoke and the cacophony of battle cries and cannon blasts. “There’s nowhere to  _ go.” _

He was right. The Coalition had gained too much ground to stop now, ships hovering over the city to rain down death upon its citizens. Dragons hurtled to the ground after being struck by cannonballs, landing with a deafening crash and a cloud of smoke and ash as the dragonglass kept them grounded. 

They watched the dragon army thin, weaken, felt hope slide out of reach as they fell, one by one. But then- 

“What’s that?” Esteri said suddenly, pointing to the large ship moving alongside one of the destroyers,  _ against _ the formation of the rest of the Coalition ships. 

“What’s what?” Naomi asked, squinting as the ship dipped lower, waited for the next run of bombs dropped on the city. But the ship lined itself up with the destroyer and… opened fire? 

They watched in open-mouthed astonishment as the destroyer spun wildly out of control, veered into a steep, uncontrollable dive, and crashed. 

And then Naomi saw it- the firebird shining bright and bold against the black flag on the ship that she now recognized as the  _ Revenant. _ She laughed in sheer disbelief as more flags suddenly rippled open across the advancing forces, the phoenix clear as day on the flags as the ships turned on the Coalition with violent and extreme prejudice. 

The effect was devastating, each ship carefully positioned to cripple the Coalition’s advancing lines. A small force placed to cause maximum damage and  _ succeeding, _ sending the bombers hurtling out of the sky. 

Naomi saw the  _ Hyperion _ and the  _ Aurelia _ barreling through the ranks of the Coalition, crushing any opposition as the two captains worked their ships off of each other with a skill and speed that took Naomi’s breath away. 

Meanwhile, Linnea had turned her attention to the large ship hovering above the chaos- the  _ Raider _ , overseeing its army. The Coalition scattered apart, panicked, and gave the dragon army the chance to swoop in and finally return some of the damage dealt. 

“What the hell is that flag?” Esteri asked, wonder and relief in her voice. A few more ships, smaller and unfamiliar, unfolded the firebird flag and joined in the fight.

“A message,” Naomi said, slack with relief and blinking back tears, “from Linnea.” In the streets below, she saw Ailani battling the pirates advancing on foot with the ferocity of a lioness, majestic and fierce and positively lethal, the Nakano warriors just barely keeping up with her. 

A sudden bolt of inspiration made her spin around to check the halls, splashing through puddles of blood left by the shifters’ opponents. “C’mon, we have to get to my rooms. They’re warded, and I can add a few to keep the walls from crumbling.” 

Esteri rolled Rahim’s wheelchair down the halls, flanked by shifters at Noor’s barked command. Sayali galloped ahead with him to clear the way, Atreya falling back to guard the rear. 

They met another mob of pirates swarming up the stairs, and a few shifters peeled off to take them down. More waited further ahead, and they paused as Noor and Sayali ducked the swinging blades and dragged the pirates to the ground- and then Atreya barreled past them and turned the battle into a massacre. 

Naomi dragged the royals past the bodies littering the floor, trying not to look at the slaughter if she could help it. 

Her wards had held up, to her staggering relief, and her rooms were empty and untouched. She let Noor and Sayali in, left Alpha Atreya lurking in the halls to guard them, and fumbled for the paint at her waist again to smear a series of runes on the wall. 

“There,” she said, stepping back to double check her hurried work before copying the rune onto the other walls. 

Naomi spun around when Esteri cried out, saw the royal reach for Rahim as he nearly fell from his wheelchair, clutching his chest. The blood had drained from Esteri’s face, too, and she swallowed hard as she explained, “Someone’s hurt, and Soraya’s outside the city boundaries. Darius is close to the edge, too.” 

“Kaveh,” Rahim whispered, eyes vacant. “Kaveh’s hurt.” Esteri trembled. 

The bonds were weakened too far, Naomi realized with a surge of alarm. Even as she thought it, the ground beneath them bucked. She and Esteri fell, landing hard, Noor barely reaching Rahim in time to keep him from toppling over. 

Naomi crawled to the balcony doors with Sayali’s steady assistance as the entire world shook again, bracing herself against the Arcos to watch in horror as the grounds of Nova Solis cracked and began to slowly peel apart. 

The city burned, fire and smoke blurring as sharp cracking sounds filled the air above the screaming and roaring and cannon blasts, clouds of ash billowing as stone crumbled with each desperate heave of the earth. 

The Coalition ships fought bitterly against Linnea’s small force and the dragon army, the heavy beat of wings audible above furious shrieks and ground-shaking collisions. 

Naomi stood, nerves scraped raw and fear crawling up her throat. The city would fall, just as she’d foreseen… unless she did something to stop it. 

Determination hardened until the fear was obsolete, nothing but a faded memory. 

“Don’t leave the room,” she said, barely recognizing her own voice. 

“What? Naomi, where are you going? Naomi!” 

But Naomi looked out at the devastated city, the struggling citizens trying desperately to reach safety, the lion-hearted people fighting back despite the odds stacked against them all. 

She let the anger strike, hit flint, and  _ spark, _ fury rising raw and vengeful in her veins. 

She didn’t remember how she got to the streets, couldn’t recall the passing of time between leaving the palace and finding herself in the heart of the battle. She only knew the fury kindling at the base of her spine and curling up through her ribs. She let the anger come, let it rupture as the earth heaved and broke apart, widening dangerously beneath her feet even as the whole city dipped with a dangerous lurch that made her heart skip. 

A red dragon roared, one she vaguely recognized as Tahj, already triumphant as Nova Solis threatened to fall out of the sky, his victory and malice shining deep.

She felt the moment the frayed links snapped, the tension wilting as the magic between the royal dragons and the city’s power dissolved. But she caught the threads before they vanished into nothing, let her magic cauterize the bleeding strands before they unraveled entirely. 

A wounded sound tore free from her throat when the full force of the power settled on her shoulders. Her knees buckled, hot, bright bursts of pain searing through her, choking the air from her lungs. No way to do this alone, not without help. Not without  _ more. _

She gritted her teeth and woke the sleeping giant beneath the city. 

Rivers of blood streamed down the white stone streets, raining down in hot splashes as dragons battled it out overhead. The ground fractured further, ripping itself apart in a spiderweb that threatened ruination. 

Naomi wondered if the ancient magic would be too slow to rise, too late to save them- and then suddenly she felt it latch onto her, trying to swallow her magic whole as though it were an offering to a timeless, indifferent god. 

She clenched her hands into fists until they bled, lashing out at the insistent tug on her spark so savagely that the convergence reared back in surprise. She pressed the advantage, gathering the ley lines and feeding them into the convergence before reaching insistently for it again. It came, wary this time, and she felt blood drip from her nose from the overload of power setting her alight. 

Magic rolled through her like a storm. She called the convergence’s strength to her, felt as though she was burning alive as the ley lines came alive and crackled around her like a lightning storm of raw power. 

Dragons and ships blasted by overhead, sending gales of winds that relentlessly battered her, whipping her hair into her face and stealing her breath away. She should have fallen, should have been thrown to the ground or off the city entirely, but the convergence held her steady, anchored her against the forces of nature tearing the city apart. 

Thick green smoke rolled overhead, kept at bay by the pale-faced Mages that skittered away from her when she stepped too close. She ignored them, too focused on the splitting ground and the storm raging inside of her, power that tried to devour her until she wasn’t sure if she could stay standing. 

She did, though. She always did. Because it was  _ conviction _ that made her strong,  _ conviction _ that gave her the strength to shrug off the weight of the world and keep moving. 

Naomi saw the cracks in the streets yawn, widen as the city broke into pieces. But she understood what to do, remembered Nia’s words as the convergence tried to take her own magic away.  _ Nothing in this realm could hold you, or take what is yours.  _

With those words echoing in her head, Naomi shoved the convergence’s insistent tugs back and released the phoenix on her skin, sent it to glide above her to clear the way. 

Threats melted away from her, buckling beneath the force of her rage, the phoenix, the Nakano warriors dancing through the horde of pirates to her side, keeping them off her, the canid and felid shifters dragging would-be attackers away as she walked slowly and calmly down the streets, immune to the rioting chaos around her. 

Power screamed through the air as she moved, walking along the torn streets and filling the gaps with molten gold magic. The fighting overhead slowed, distracted by the blinding glow of light bleeding off of her. 

She was a conduit for the convergence, a beacon in a war-torn city, pulling the earth back together with every inch of ground she gained. 

The tidal wave of magic from the entity below was staggering- she could tear this world in two if she wished. The entire world shivering in holy dread as her footfalls struck like lightning bolts, magic streaming through the streets and overtaking anything in its way. 

A dragon landed in front of her, scales blinding in the brightening sunlight. She didn’t slow, a city of innocents at her back, prepared to defend them with her life if necessary. 

The dragon struck, only to be caught unawares by a cannon blast from above. Naomi glanced up in time to see Linnea leap from a Coalition ship, sword in hand, and land in a roll back on the deck of the  _ Revenant. _ The Coalition ship veered aside with a sword shoved through its wheel and its crew left in bloody pieces on the deck. 

Her burning phoenix screamed in victory, streaking past the  _ Revenant _ as Linnea stared after it, stunned. 

Naomi finally halted, the power like a sun burning inside of her, and closed her eyes, moored by the sentient convergence that only now understood what she was trying to achieve. She reached out with the magic to find every breach on the city grounds, every crack in every stone, and funneled raw power into the wounds, healing them, filling them with the planet’s lifeblood until the city felt like a living, breathing thing in her consciousness. 

She opened her eyes, barely able to see through the blinding haze of power, and saw Vahid land in front of her to release a stream of fire at an approaching Coalition ship, the  _ Hyperion _ and  _ Aurelia _ descending with a vengeance to smash it to pieces while Mages battered the others away. 

The earth trembled as Darius landed behind her, Soraya’s wings a dark shadow above them as shifters and Nakano bellowed a challenge to anyone stupid enough to come for them, dragons and humans and shifters and Mages coming together to defend what was theirs. To defend each other.

The wrecked ships of the Coalition had begun to retreat, sent limping back to their leaders and leaving the city to an odd, solemn silence. 

Naomi glanced back and saw that the cracks in the white stone streets were whole again, reforged by the magic that had filled in the gaps and left them shining gold in the sunlight. The smoke cleared, the sudden quiet jarring after hours of fighting. 

Hope tentatively raised its head. 

And then Darius made an utterly inhuman noise, pain and fury tearing free from a dragon’s throat as he saw his brother lying limp near the palace. 

Naomi sprinted after Darius, horror mounting at the sight of bronze scales left dim and torn on Kaveh’s body. A thousand wounds wept crimson tears, shards of dragonglass buried deep. 

Darius shifted and fell to his knees as Soraya wheeled around, diving for them when she realized what had happened. Vahid loomed behind Naomi and then shifted, staggering at the sight of Kaveh’s body. 

Naomi was still tied to the convergence, felt the way it was steadily burning through her defenses, trying to feed off of her spark since it had nothing better to do anymore. 

Rahim’s scream of denial echoed across the city from the palace. Her eyes burned at the pure, unfiltered pain in the sound, but she saw the shallow movement of the golden dragon’s ribcage, like Icarus’s last seconds passing before her eyes. 

She listened to Soraya’s gasping cries, saw her curl over Kaveh’s head and cradle him to her as his labored breaths weakened. Darius watching with a helplessness that hurt to watch, Vahid hollow eyed and already grieving behind her. 

And still the magic in her raged, seeking an outlet. Naomi grasped the convergence again, gathered it to her, and made a split decision. 

The others barely noticed her stumble to Kaveh’s side, at least until she pressed her hands to his ribcage and lit them both in a bright, golden aura. 

Naomi ignored their questions, just closed her eyes and poured the endless power of the convergence into the fallen dragon prince with a shuddering, desperate prayer. 


	28. Darcy: Genesis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! My life imploded in a million different ways the past few weeks, but the dust has settled (finally, thank god) so now I can finish this!! I hope everyone is safe and healthy <3
> 
> In regards to the first half of the chapter, Darcy and Stiles are totally drift compatible

**28: GENESIS**

_**Darcy** _

The most powerful nemeton on the continent, created and anchored by a spark, had been turned into a tool for the Druidic High Order to track down the same magic users as its architect. There was some sick, twisted metaphor somewhere in there that she couldn’t be bothered to find.

The DHO had used every resource available to them- and they had plenty, after years of killing and overthrowing and infiltrating both the human organizations and the shifter packs across the world. Most of the supernaturals had no idea they hosted a traitor in their midst, no idea that someone was using them for their connections and power in order to secure the rule of druids across the world.

Fury flickered, harsh and violent, at the thought. She set it carefully aside before it made her already frayed temper snap, refocusing on her quiet conference with Stiles in the Gonzalez’s pack house. Isela had offered the conference room where the jaguar pack hosted talks with other supernaturals. It was a big room with plenty of space and a table large enough for the two sparks to spread out with maps and notes to plan.

Together, Darcy and Stiles stared down at an intricately detailed map of the area that Isela had provided. Now that they knew the truth of the druids’ betrayal, Darcy knew that she and Stiles would have to put an end to it here and now, or else the DHO would find some way to kill or maim them or their family members. And they wouldn’t stop there, she knew. They’d have to cement their rule every time a new spark appeared.

Nemetons were funny things, she mused to herself as she traced the invisible ley lines on the map. Once a convergence of ley lines was anchored by a spark and thus converted into a nemeton, the well of power became almost… sentient. The magic was awake and aware to an alarming degree, and it’s incredible sensitivity to other magics and broad reach meant that, theoretically, one could trace the nemeton’s reactivity to magic to the source.

Presumably what the DHO used this nemeton for, she thought darkly. Which meant that the Druidic High Order could not be allowed to keep this nemeton in their grasp.

Now, Darcy and Stiles faced a two-pronged issue: one, identifying and destroying the druids’ defensive wards set up around the nemeton, and two, taking control of the nemeton away from a group of high powered druids with decades of experience under their belts.

No biggie.

Beside her, Stiles was absently spinning a small tornado of mountain ash in his palm. He flicked his hand out, sending the spiraling black ash dancing to his fingertips, where it burst into a cloud and dispersed with an audible _whoosh._

Darcy felt the mountain ash rush past her, skimming through her hair and against her skin. She paid it no attention as it settled in a thick, solid circle at their feet, too focused on the map and far too used to Stiles’s incessant fidgeting to let it distract her.

Stiles closed his fingers into a tight fist, flipping his hand over and recalling the glittering black ash to his palm. He let it whirl up to the crook of his elbow and back down to his palm again and again, playing with only a fraction of his focus.

Darcy hummed to herself, thinking hard. Destroy the wards and take control of the nemeton. Tasks for which she would prefer a week of planning and the Wells twins at her side.

She tilted her head in Stiles’s direction, eyes still on the map. “What if we-”

“No, remember the-”

“Shit. Yeah, that would be a problem.”

They fell silent again. She worried her lip, slouching against the table. Bucky and Santi spoke quietly somewhere behind her, and Darcy could feel the reassuring warmth of Laura and Peter nearby, too.

“Hm.” Stiles leaned forward to squint at the map. “What if we tried-”

Darcy straightened, catching onto his thoughts. “Oh, _that_ might work. Let me see the- yeah, thanks.” She ducked down to study the stack of papers he’d handed her.

“They haven’t actually _said_ anything,” she heard a Gonzalez pack member say behind her, baffled.

“You get used to it,” Bucky said, clearly sympathetic.

“Stiles.” Darcy laid a translucent sheet over the map.

“Oh, yeah,” he said with a dark grin. “That’ll do just fine.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard,” she murmured. “Not with both of us.”

“Better if we take separate ones,” Stiles pointed out. “Easier to slip in.”

She frowned. “No room for mistakes that way.”

“We’ll need-”

“At least two,” she agreed, nodding. “Until we’re through, anyway.”

“And then redirect them,” Stiles continued, skimming a finger along the map. “I’ll hold back.”

“Are you sure?” She asked, surprised. “I’m-”

“Yes, you are,” he cut her off before she could voice the concern. “You’ve done it before, remember?”

“Barely,” she muttered.

“Still more than me,” he said cheerfully. “This way I can watch your back and guide the others.”

She chewed her lower lip, anxiety spiking. “But what if-”

“Then I’ll be there,” Stiles reassured her.

“And once I do?” She asked, crossing her arms. “What then?”

He hesitated. “Then the worst will be done with,” he said slowly. “And the rest we can figure out later.”

“If you’re sure,” she said reluctantly.

“Have some faith,” Stiles told her, knocking his elbow against hers.

A throat cleared behind them. “Care to share with the rest of us?” Laura prompted, forever patient while they schemed.

Stiles turned his head to blink at her over his shoulder. “We’ve worked out a plan,” he hedged.

“It should work,” Darcy said thoughtfully. And even if it didn’t, they wouldn’t give up. That was the only thing she knew for certain- that she would get back up again. There was no certainty that she’d win this fight. But she was certain she would get up and try again if she failed.

“You’re going to do something reckless, aren’t you?” Bucky asked with the defeated tone of a man who knew the answer but wished he didn’t.

“We’re each going to tap into one of the ley lines that feeds into the nemeton and use it to find whatever wards the DHO is powering around their perimeter,” she explained.

“Then we’ll use that ley line as a backdoor into the nemeton, where Darcy will take control of it away from the druids,” Stiles continued. “Meanwhile, I’ll use my ley line to watch her back.”

Isela frowned. “You think that will work? They’ve had control of the nemeton for years now. I can’t imagine them giving it up without a fight.”

Laura gave Darcy a crooked smile. “Darce has done it before. She took the Beacon Hills nemeton out of Deaton’s control when she was young to save our family.”

Darcy ducked her head as the room turned to look at her in surprise. “I don’t remember most of it,” she muttered. “Don’t get excited.” She might fail this time around, with six high-powered druids to fight instead of one unsuspecting agent.

Stiles nudged her. “The nemeton was made by a spark, remember? That gives us an edge. The nemeton will naturally seek us instead.”

“Spark trumps druid, every time,” Peter added from where he’d been lurking behind the small crowd. He gave her a small, encouraging smile.

“What about the rest of us?” Bucky asked, sprawling out in his seat to tap his boot against her ankle.

“Two to cover each of us,” she said, smiling at the satisfied nod he gave in response. “The rest of you we’ll send to disable whatever wards we find.”

“We’ll take the power from the wards once we have the nemeton,” Stiles added when the jaguar shifters looked concerned. “So the druids will have to manually activate them with their own magic instead of using the nemeton’s power.”

“Which means that even if they do manage to set off a ward before one of us gets to it,” Laura said, “the effect will be much weaker.”

“Or entirely ineffective,” Peter agreed. “I doubt a shifter would be down long, if they were hit.”

“I didn’t realize there was such a difference in power,” one of Santi’s uncles spoke up.

Stiles nodded. “Druids are powered by earth magic, which takes a lot of cultivation to have enough control to funnel it into a rune. Most are connected to nemetons now, which is why they’re so strong.”

He was playing with the mountain ash again, absently sending the little black tornado spinning across the table and back again. A couple pairs of eyes peered curiously over the edge of the table, the kids watching in wide-eyed awe. Stiles winked at them and flicked his fingers, splitting the ash tornado into three twisters, and grinned at their shocked little gasps.

“What about the wards?” Santiago asked. “How do you want us to take care of them?”

Darcy pursed her lips, sharing a glance with Stiles. “Torching them is the best bet,” she said. “It’ll ensure the entire rune is destroyed.”

Isela nodded. “We can do that.”

Darcy glanced outside, noting that the sky had long since dissolved into deep purple hues. Night had fallen fast, twilight reigning over the dark jungle.

Natasha caught her eye, the Void having found a quiet corner and settling in early into the discussion. She raised a brow in question.

Darcy took a breath. Normally, they’d wait until daylight to begin, not wanting to risk venturing out into an unfamiliar jungle with enemies hiding within. But her instincts were insistent, an urgent pull in her chest to go, go now, don’t wait.

She took a moment, closing her eyes so she could focus on the pull, trace it back to its source. Was it her idea to start hunting for the wards tonight? Or was there some outside influence?

A wry smile pulled at her mouth when she found the answer. A faint, distant call echoed in her mind, easily dismissed as another of her worries.

But it wasn’t coming from Darcy. Instead it came from a vast power held tightly under the DHO’s control, from the lake of deep water and deeper magic that had caught and held her safely not a few hours ago. The nemeton felt the hollow imprint left behind of the two sparks who’d swam in its waters, felt the first possibility of freedom in years. Had used its ley lines to follow them back, to make sure these two lights still glowed, that they were still close enough to answer its call.

They’d reminded the nemeton of its creator. Darcy swallowed hard at the nemeton’s memory of the spark who’d anchored it, a ghost of a memory that the nemeton clung tightly to and guarded fiercely. The nemeton _remembered._

“I think we should go tonight,” she blurted, pressured into speaking by the nemeton’s urgent insistence.

The room quieted. “Why?” Peter asked, interested.

Darcy bit her lip, abruptly remembering the night she had used the Beacon Hills nemeton to kill Kate Argent and her hunters. Peter had asked her what she remembered then; she’d been afraid to admit the magic tree had talked to her.

She met her dad’s eyes, a smile curling her mouth. “The nemeton told me.” His eyes softened, and they shared a moment of remembrance of their first meeting- a terrified, traumatized little girl and the overprotective wolf who would become her father.

“Well, in that case,” he said, because he always believed her, never doubted her for a second, “who are we to argue?”

~*~

Maybe they should have argued, Darcy thought with a grimace as she tripped over the fourth tree root in as many minutes. This was just asking for a broken neck.

The ‘wolf at her side huffed, bumping her with his nose until she rested a hand on his back and let her dad guide her through the jungle. Bucky followed with seemingly no effort, the bastard, armed to the teeth so he could guard her back.

“We’re close,” Darcy whispered. She angled further right, aiming for the quiet hum of power that promised a ley line buried far beneath the surface.

Calling the ley line to the surface was going to be a dangerous task.

It was one thing to tap into a ley line from the surface, reaching down with their own magic to find it. It was a whole other battle to bring the ley line _up,_ where its power would be wilder, more unpredictable. Like clutching a power line and holding tight as you were electrocuted, hoping no one else got hit. 

The earbud that they’d found in the quinjet crackled to life in her ear. She paused as Natasha reported, “Found two wards on the outer perimeter. Sending a picture now.”

Darcy pulled her phone out of her pocket, crouching down so the light wasn’t obvious for miles, and studied the runes engraved on a pile of heavy stones half-buried under the foliage.

Faintly impressed Natasha had even found the marker, Darcy told her, “The first set is perimeter alarms. The second is a defensive ward that they can activate to catch or kill the trespasser. Probably has plants involved somehow, so watch your step.”

“Safe to disable?”

Darcy took a second close look at the wards to be sure, then nodded. “Neither are set up to alert if they’re destroyed.”

Arrogant of them, she thought with distaste. They probably checked the perimeter alarms manually every so often, but if someone had already crossed the border, the ward wouldn’t catch them. It only warned of people crossing the marker.

“I’ll have the others look for similar markers,” Natasha said, and signed off.

The territory was well guarded, wards scattered throughout the jungle to warn of potential intruders. But like the others, these wards weren’t designed to be constantly powered.

She wondered why- then recalled with a flash of satisfaction that druids couldn’t anchor power to a rune or ward. That was an ability held by sparks and sparks only.

Even with control of the nemeton, the DHO wouldn’t be able to permanently tie a stream of power to their wards. They would have to create the wards and periodically use the nemeton to activate the runes.

For all their talk of control, they had very little of it.

Managing a nemeton required control, of course, but it also needed some level of acceptance that it was a wild, living thing that could not- and _should_ not- be locked down and micromanaged. Darcy had always found her connection with nemetons to be a conversation, communication with mutual respect and reverence. She never ordered the nemeton to do anything, but gathered the stray threads of power and attached them to a rune. The nemeton needed purpose, a way to use its boundless power to protect its territory, and a spark could help them do just that.

The druids, on the other hand, seemed to have the skewed idea that a nemeton was simply a pool of power to access as needed in order to control the land.

This, of course, meant that any spark would have an edge when tapping into a nemeton. At least that was the theory they were working from tonight.

Darcy found the place she was looking for after a short walk. She knelt in the grass, leaning over to dig her fingers into the soil like Naomi had once taught her, years ago at sanctuary that was her home. Her teacher had been oh so patient, showing Darcy and Stiles how to slowly and carefully call the power coursing through the earth to their fingertips. How to keep the ley line cupped between their palms, how to follow it to the closest convergence or nemeton.

The memory made her smile, so many years later that now her idyllic time at Naomi’s home felt like a soft, soothing dream. It made her nerves settle down, something like reassurance washing through her instead at the cherished memory.

It meant that she greeted the ley line’s arrival with a smile, her mind warm and open, her spark meeting the earth magic with a vibrating intensity that made her ears buzz. She felt the power of the ley line course through her- her teeth buzzed, her bones ached, her blood raced.

The ley line welcomed her touch. Darcy hummed in quiet appreciation when the earth magic tugged her in the direction of the nemeton as though sensing what she had planned. If she closed her eyes she could see the nemeton and the dozens of ley lines feeding into it from every direction.

One of those lines blazed in her mind’s eye, burning white hot as Stiles called it to the surface and joined his magic with it.

She opened her eyes and let the magic lure her in, the nemeton a siren call that made the rest of the world fade away.

She barely noticed the werewolf and assassin stalking her footsteps, or the sleek black jaguar shifters darting through the jungle to dismantle the defensive wards.

But she felt it when the nemeton wavered suddenly. The druids pulling it back, dragging it away from her and Stiles. They were too late, she knew. The ley line was a direct feed into the convergence- once they were connected. Her success was inevitable.

Dim lights appeared in the map within her mind, the nemeton showing her the druids that now stood at its shores. Darcy paused briefly, aware she would arrive only a few yards east of their position. The nerves were back.

The ley line buzzed impatiently in her grasp. Stiles was in position as well, ready to step out of the cover of darkness with her. She took a deep, steadying breath, felt the gentle touch of Bucky’s knuckles between her shoulder blades. _Got your back._

She smiled at the reminder and stepped out of cover, a wolf prowling at her side and the Winter Soldier on her six.

Deaton saw her first. “Darcy,” he said urgently, eyes glued to the buzzing ley line coursing through her. “Think about this. Don’t do anything rash.”

The other druids, though, turned on her. She felt the nemeton pulse as they desperately dragged power from it and aimed it at her, the impending violence dropping the temperature ten degrees. She prepared to defend herself, felt Stiles send her a reassuring buzz from his own magic, and then-

“I wouldn’t,” Natasha said coolly from behind the druids. A low, ferocious snarl echoed her words. The druids froze in place, then turned slowly to look behind them.

Laura’s red eyes gleamed at Natasha’s hip, matched on her other side by Isela’s crimson glare. Jaguars paced in the thick trees above, invisible but for the yellow-green shine of their eyes in the reflected light.

“Darcy, now,” Stiles called.

She moved forward, aiming for the nemeton, as Stiles shot his hand out. A stream of black ash snaked towards the druids, circling them before they could react, and settled at their feet with damning finality.

“Mountain ash?” A druid asked disdainfully.

“Think you can take it from me?” Stiles challenged, and the woman fell silent.

Free from the druids’ grasp, their connection blocked by the mountain ash, the nemeton greedily reached for Darcy. She sucked in a breath, surprised at the depth of power, and had to use Peter to stay balanced when the force of it made her sway.

“Have you thought this through?” Deaton asked calmly, appearing unconcerned with his circumstances. “What will you do now?”

“Prevent you and the rest of the DHO from ever controlling another nemeton again,” Darcy said. There was something angry and loud inside her, like a scream trapped in her throat.

A druid snorted. “Not possible. There’s only two of you, remember?”

Rage reared its head. She grappled with herself for a long moment, wanting to lash out at the reminder that these people had killed everyone else like her, out of fear and jealousy. The nemeton reacted when she did, felt her fury and offered to burn them all to ash.

Some part of her wanted to give into that desire for revenge, to give into the dark and ugly head that reared up and demanded vengeance.

But she knew, looking at them now, that she’d already taken their power away, simply by exposing them. Giving into that darkness inside her wouldn’t bring those people back. It wouldn’t fix anything- would only mean more life lost, one more light extinguished.

So she stood before those angry urges, faced them down, and told that darkness- that hate inside her- to sit down.

“I remember,” Darcy said evenly. “But you forget I have a _lot_ of friends.” Low snarls of agreement from the wolves and jaguars. Bucky and Natasha were a terrifying pair of shadows watching the proceedings with hard eyes.

Darcy thought of Lydia and Jane, of the new nightmare that were the Demon Riders. The Druidic High Order was a threat- but Darcy had Jane in her corner, and Jane had the Ak’ma, her army of magic eaters, grim reapers of the magical world at her beck and call.

There was truly nothing the DHO could threaten them with now. Not anymore. Everything she’d done, everything her family had built, all came down to this moment. Knowing the ties they’d made would one day save them all.

“You’ll ruin us all,” a druid snapped, testing the edge of the mountain ash circle. It didn’t budge. “No one else can be trusted with this much power-”

“How could you ever know that?” Darcy demanded. “People can’t be summarized or defined. We change. We grow. We remember what matters, and that’s each other.”

“Miss Lewis…” Deaton said softly. Patronizing and full of pity, like she was still a naive child who needed guidance from a man who did not have her best interests at heart.

“No,” she said, furious. “What we do, who we are, what we choose to believe and how we choose to treat people- _that’s_ what matters. You have chosen to let fear rule you, and you’ve killed hundreds of innocents because of it.”

Killed for things they couldn’t control. For things they had no say over, for the simple crime of existing. Can one contain a storm? Sparks could no more stop the turn of the earth than deny their nature. And they shouldn’t _have_ to deny themselves. They deserved to live just like any other.

She took a breath, dialing back her anger before the nemeton reacted to it. “There is so much good in this world. So much to fight for, and I won’t let you tear it down just because you’re scared. You don’t get to decide how people should live, or what they’re worth. You don’t get to decide the value of their being.”

Darcy thought of all the people in her life, her world, those she’d met and those she hadn’t. The ones who chose kindness even when it cost them, and did so again and again and again. People like Peter and the Hales, like Julian, like dozens of other supernaturals who’d given their all for friends and strangers alike.

How many lives had they touched? How many lives were altered by that one moment, that single connection between two human beings?

Her own life had been saved by such kindness, time and time again. Her life had only needed to be saved because of people like these druids. And she’d been one of the lucky ones- countless like her, dead and forgotten.

Determination scorched through her. They would not be hunted any longer.

Darcy was barely aware of her decision to move, to walk into the cool waters of the nemeton’s heart, hands gliding along the water’s surface. The nemeton responded eagerly, coaxing her further in, reacting to her touch like an affection-starved cat.

She opened herself up entirely to the nemeton, ignoring the argument that Stiles had continued with the druids.

The burning feeling that had been growing in her chest all night blew wild and bright, like lighter fluid to a flame. The nemeton fed the flame until it became a wildfire bleeding out of her and spreading through the water like ink until the lake glowed faintly around her.

Darcy’s magic was like golden silk around her, caught under her skin and burning inside her as if her body was nothing but a human prison for it.

She was only faintly aware of the shores groaning, the earth shifting and roiling as the nemeton reacted to the influx of her magic. It made her think of a humid night and a burning house, of gunshots and screaming all drowned out by the steady pulse of a nemeton.

Her memories flashed by, as though the nemeton here and now had fished out all the relevant ones to present to her. Urging her towards something she didn’t understand quite yet.

Stiles’s realization: _“The nemetons will die out or become corrupted without a spark walking the earth.”_

Naomi’s amused, _“The land is connected for thousands of miles, and you sent the equivalent of a nuclear strike down the channels the first time you connected with it. I felt it all the way out here.”_

Her mother’s soft voice, a faint memory that ached to relive. _“We’re all connected, Darcy. We have magic that makes us strong but also very different. So if you ever feel all alone, just remember- we’re all connected.”_

Something shook loose inside her, like a dormant instinct rising from its slumber. And she realized what it was the nemeton wanted from her.

_“We’re all connected, Darcy.”_

She heard splashing as Stiles joined her, coming to her side to peer worriedly into her eyes. “Darce? You weren’t answering anyone. What’s going on?”

Darcy felt her spark surge, knew that gold blazed and brightened around her pupil as she looked at him. “It’s time the sparks started creating again,” she said instead of explaining. Not just surviving, but _living,_ growing.

All this magic at her fingertips, the potential in the air as their fate hung in the balance, and deep down inside, instinctively, Darcy made a choice that she hadn’t even known was an option.

She spread her hands on the water’s surface and let go.

Her magic exploded out of her in a flood of elemental fury, fiercer than anything she’d ever known. It felt like a sun burning inside of her chest, like she held a burning star cupped between her palms, dipped in still waters and sent blazing down the ley lines.

She poured everything she had into the nemeton, everything she could give. Felt it spread outwards, searing up the ley lines and spreading out for thousands of miles. And she kept going, just gave and gave and gave.

Stiles seemed to catch on, because seconds later her heart skipped a beat at the explosion of his own magic beside her, its contribution urging their joined magics even further along the ley lines, touching upon nemetons and convergences thousands of miles away, sending the call further than it had gone with her alone.

She held her breath as the magic lit the ley lines ablaze… felt her stomach sink as it lingered, untouched, and started to fade.

And then there were small lights in the darkness, flickering to life and burning brighter with every passing breath. Darcy felt tears slide down her face as druids and witches and other supernaturals all across the country responded, linking their own magics to hers and spreading the call even further, connecting to more ley lines and nemetons.

She felt each individual soul that responded, could identify the ones she knew with ease. Imani and Rowan, heads bowed together in the Stark Tower hospital wing. Malik and his father in his lab. The Hales. The packs and vampires and magic users Darcy knew, scattered all across the country.

All across the country and beyond. Ley lines cared little for meaningless human boundaries, tangling together and past borders, out to sea and beyond, reaching shores of other continents with every new soul adding their power to hers.

Countless werewolf packs added their joined strength to the call. She watched them grow bright in her vision, the tangled web of shadows around them burning away, paving the way to a full shift. The full form was a joyous thing, and their howls sent the call echoing across the world.

A sob tore free from her throat when latent, buried magics began to stir- when the first bright souls cracked open and spilled molten gold. As new sparks heard the call and _answered._

She felt the people of her world answer the call, acting as beacons lit in the night. As embers became flames became wildfires spreading without pause, a single timeless moment that went on and on and _on._

They were all connected, the heart of magics in her world, all breathing as one. It was the dawn of a new age, one without the past’s fear or pain or death. It was one of life and light and love, one they would forge together with their combined strength and compassion.

_And so we rise._

Darcy grasped Stiles’s hand so tightly their bones creaked in mutual protest. She needed a focus while she tried to remember where the boundaries of her own skin were, where she ended and everything else began.

Together, they were elemental and burning, clinging to each other as the world realigned, as sparks woke up and blazed like small suns all over the globe.

Darcy felt the steady warmth of the rising sun, tilting her face into theuntamed light. She felt something swell inside of her, something huge, like hope and a promise all at once. They were no longer alone. And still the nemetons spread the call, reaching every corner of the planet to find its beloved guardians and wake their sleeping magics.

High above, the sun breached the horizon to meet the golden sky, and Darcy opened her eyes to a new world.


	29. Naomi: Arbiter

**29: ARBITER**

_**Naomi** _

Five days after the battle of Nova Solis, Naomi was not surprised to stumble across Rahim on the palace’s highest ledge, staring out at the recovering city with vacant eyes, hands gripping the spokes of the wheelchair until the frame creaked in protest.

“He will barely speak,” Noor had said, helpless, when he’d sought her out after her meeting with the remaining dragon Consuls and leaders of the other Beings within the city. “Not to me, not to Darius or Soraya or Esteri. I don’t… I don’t know what he needs.”

“I’ll find him,” she’d promised quietly, and set off immediately to do so.

And here he was, quiet and regal in his grief, hollowed out by everything he’d lost. Watching dragons swoop in and out of sight across the city, helping with the reconstruction efforts, many carrying Mages on their backs in the tentative partnership cultivated by High Mage Ziadie and Esteri.

To the east, thin columns of smoke from the funeral pyres still drifted into an azure sky. They’d burned for three days now, after long and ritualistic rites for the dragons lost to war- the oldest of which still had flames dancing along her bones, an inferno that did not die, not when fueled by the deceased dragon’s own magic as it fed the fire and gradually dissipated with the smoke.

According to Idri, it could take weeks to fade entirely. But fire was a holy purifier, and dragon fire stronger still. Their culture revered this ritual, the belief that their spirits would be released with the flames, fed bit by bit into an eternity.

It didn’t help the pain of loss any, Naomi quietly observed.

Harder still when the dead were centuries old. Was loss harder after such a long life- was it harder to let go of someone you’d known for a millennia? Dragons were strange creatures, possessive and tenacious in their deep, abiding love, but Naomi thought that humans had a better appreciation of life, valuing their fleeting time on earth, treasuring every moment knowing that it could be their last. So much crammed into such a short period of time.

Here, though, this new realm. Here was a world of peoples that accepted who and what they were, for it was the most monstrous parts of them that clung the tightest to life. Appreciation for life, surely, but with a welcoming of every aspect of themselves, no matter how terrible, that people in her home realm had yet to achieve.

You lose some things with immortality, she supposed. Those last threads of humanity fraying over thousands of passing years, unbound by restraints forged by mortal beings.

But grief- grief remained the same, no matter what ran through your veins, human or monster or Other.

Rahim didn’t turn, but he must have registered her presence because he said in that smooth, soft voice, “Arbiter.”

She made a face. The new title had been borne sometime between becoming a conduit for a convergence’s power and the first meeting of leaders within the city to determine how to proceed. Sentinel had negative connotations for everyone involved, which only encouraged the Councils to find another title for her.

Her display in the streets of Nova Solis had shaken many of them.

Mages watched her with either awe or terror, two extremes from other magic users in the city. She’d tried to explain that it wasn’t _her_ magic doing the work of reforging the city as it tried to split apart, but it fell on deaf ears.

On the bright side, she would soon be teaching a course at the University for upcoming Mages on ley lines and why no one should ever under any circumstances fuck with the convergences sleeping beneath most of the major cities in this realm. They had a sort of magnetism, she’d discovered, that lured humans and Beings to the heart of each convergence, where they promptly started to build.

It explained the longevity of humans, at least. Magic like this bled into everything it could touch, latching on and lingering in a thousand little ways.

“Tell me, are dragons capable of creating a title that _isn’t_ pretentious?” She asked, moving to stand beside him at the rail. He smiled faintly, but she sobered when she saw how much it cost him to give that much. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She gave him the long moments of silence that followed, let him decide if he was ready to unburden this bone-deep pain, to let someone share the load. And was relieved when he decided to.

“Now that the threat isn’t hanging over us, I feel… I feel everything I’ve been burying for over twenty solar cycles. I find I don’t know what to do with it.”

She closed her eyes against the fading light of the twin suns, tilted her face into their warmth and breathed deep. “Let it hurt. Maybe it’ll get better, maybe it won’t. There is no good advice.”

Rahim was quiet again, considering her words, before admitting, “I’m… ashamed to admit that I am barely coping. The worst events in my life, save my mother’s death, all occurred in the past twenty solar cycles. So much lost.”

She worried over the bleakness in his voice, because she recognized it from the lowest points of her own life. So she dug through her own vault of loss and hurts and shared what she’d learned from it all. “Dragons, with your immortality, experience so much more than the rest of us. But the humans in my realm, we shove everything we can into our brief lives, trying to add meaning to it all and struggling when it all turns on us. That’s something we share, I think, dragons and humans. You get kicked around, beaten down time and time again, the things you love taken from you. But you get up every time, you keep going, no matter how tired or hurt. Because there are things worth staying alive for, no matter how small or insignificant they seem at the time.”

Gods knew how many times she’d flirted with the finality of death, only to be unceremoniously dragged away from that beckoning void by a spectacular sunset and a gust of sharp fresh air, by young leaves and flowers blooming unexpectedly, by a curious bird or herd of graceful deer roaming her woods. These beautiful things reminding her that not all was lost, not everything ruined, until she’d fallen in love with being alive again.

“What if I can’t?” Rahim whispered, hands clasped in his lap now as he bowed his head, blinking away the wetness in his eyes.

Aching for him, understanding an ember in her heart, she turned to him, reaching down to grip his hands in her own. “If you can’t, then you find someone to help you through it. Someone who understands and can carry you through your pain, someone for whom you’d do the same. Sometimes, it’s a person you know and love. Other times it’s a stranger, someone with a capacity for kindness and hope who is just selfless enough to reach out and help you back to your feet.”

Rahim’s breath hitched. She softened further. “There’s no shortage of people who love you, Rahim. People who are mourning in many of the ways you are, people who don’t want to lose you, too.” She rubbed her thumb soothingly along his knuckles when the first tear slid down his face. “I know you’re tired. I know you’re scared. And I know you don’t want to give into those feelings.”

“You don’t _get_ it,” he croaked, the tears falling freely now. “I’ve lost so much that I don’t think I can even _breathe_ some days.”

“I know,” she murmured. “But I’m here anyway, just like the rest of your family. Let us help you, Rahim.”

He broke. She stayed close while he cried, purging those festering emotions at last, the gallows over his head finally removed and leaving him floundering with sudden relief and guilt and fear.

As though summoned by the sound of Rahim’s emotional pain, Noor appeared in her peripheral vision, hovering anxiously until Rahim turned and reached blindly for him. And then he was there, kneeling at his side, pressing his forehead against Rahim’s with a soft murmur in a language she didn’t recognize.

“Sorry,” Rahim said, hoarse through the tears. “I’m sorry, I’ve been-”

“Don’t apologize,” Noor said harshly. “Not for this. You’re suffering, and I do not want you to lie for my sake. “

“See?” Naomi said with a gentle squeeze to his hands before releasing him into Noor’s capable care. “Someone who loves you, Rahim, who’s willing to share your burden. You just have to accept their help.”

Rahim gathered himself just before she’d cleared the doors to leave them alone. “Naomi.” She glanced back, found him watching her with damp eyes and a tremulous smile. “Thank you. For everything.”

She held his gaze, this royal dragon with a gentle, wounded heart. “Thank me by living, Prince Rahim. I’ve come to consider you a friend, and it would hurt me to lose you, too.”

Noor’s glance was gratified, Rahim’s smile solidifying into something real, honest, as he said, “And I you, Lady Spark.” Smiling, she left the lovers to their quiet conversation and careful touches, gentle and soft with each other in the aftermath of the ruination of their home.

~*~

She went looking for Vahid and found Soraya instead.

The General stood in a quiet hall, staring at the massive portrait of the royal siblings and their father from over a century ago, hands clasped behind her back and her spine rigid in her utter stillness. Her face, though. Her face was open, unguarded. Grieving.

Naomi slowed, thrown by the sheer vulnerability in Soraya’s expression. She expected to be glared at, dismissed, or left with a cold warning look- but Soraya cleared her throat and said, “He would have liked you, you know.”

Hesitantly, Naomi shuffled to her side and peered up at the portrait. Sargon’s face was as solemn as the rest of them, but he had visible laugh lines around his eyes and mouth, and his brown eyes were warm and friendly. “Your father?”

“Sargon loved Vahid, so anyone he loved would have been accepted without question. But you… you are better than I thought you’d be.” Soraya glanced over at her, unapologetic about her past mistrust. “My father would have liked you for who you are, not just what you mean to Vahid.”

“I regret that I’ll never know him,” Naomi said, honest.

“Honorable people are rare. People you can trust to know the right thing and always do it, no matter the personal cost.” She eyed the spiderweb cracks in the marble floor, filled with the same gold that glued the rest of the city together during Naomi’s connection to the convergence.

Naomi glanced at it, still taken aback by the shimmer and faint hum from the active ley lines powering the magical cement, or whatever the hell it was. She mostly just tried not to step on any of the lines- it felt like touching a live wire to her body every time she made contact, like the world’s worst operation game where _she_ got the delightful electric jolt and aggressive buzzing in her ears.

The city itself was the anchor now, moored by the power lining the streets. An unbreakable connection that would keep Nova Solis and its dragons safe for another millennia, along with an Arbiter to maintain and protect the connection.

“I’m not very good at making friends,” Soraya said abruptly. Naomi could only blink at her, speechless. “I… do not trust easily. My social skills are nonexistent, according to Esteri. And Idri says I can be overprotective, too slow to accept change.”

“You had a good reason to be suspicious,” Naomi pointed out. “Considering the plotting going on inside the palace by people you should have been able to trust.”

“I was also intimidated.” She said it in a rush, like ripping off an emotional bandaid to reveal the wound beneath.

Naomi felt her eyes try to bug out of her head. _“You_ were intimidated? Of _me?”_

“Yes,” Soraya said with a hint of impatience. _“I_ remembered perfectly well what Sentinels could do, and you were so much stronger than the ones born in this realm. But more than that… I saw how Vahid loved you. A man I consider a brother, one who is a romantic and gentle and kind to his very core but also fierce and brilliant and as powerful as any of us royals- that man looked at you like nothing else in the world mattered. Hard to compete with, in terms of loyalty.”

“His loyalty to you never wavered,” Naomi said softly. “Loving me doesn’t change his love for any of you.”

“I see that now,” she admitted. “But at the time, I’d thought that we’d lost him to a Sentinel. That we couldn’t trust him, couldn’t be positive that he still cared for us. Stupid, in hindsight.”

“Yeah.” Naomi grinned when Soraya shot her a look. “What? It’s _Vahid._ He could never betray anyone he loves.”

Quiet, careful footsteps interrupted Soraya’s response, and they both turned to see Kaveh limp around the corner and then freeze at the sight of his older sister. 

“Heyyy, Sor,” he said with a nervous shuffle. “I didn’t know you were-”

“Why are you out of bed?” Soraya interrupted sharply. She stalked forward, dress billowing around her legs. “You have instructions to rest, you infuriating little-”

“You have to be nice to me, I almost died!” He seemed to regret the words almost instantly.

Soraya’s face wavered, remembrance drowning out her anger- but only for a heartbeat before she captured his arm in one hand and hauled him carefully down the hallway. Naomi watched, observing Kaveh’s weakened state (a far improvement from days ago) and Soraya’s frustrated but gentle attentions as she herded him back to bed.

By some miracle, the power from the convergence had saved Kaveh’s life. She’d just been a conduit for that, too, had been careful to keep her own magic out of it as the heart of a planet urged a fallen dragon prince back towards the living.

Lifeblood given freely from an entity that loved all of its people, down to the smallest, most insignificant human. After all, the convergences across the globe were what fed the longevity of human lives here, strongest in the cities but still powerful enough in the ley lines that stretched across the oceans to fuel them, too.

Naomi wandered back to her own rooms with the sounds of Soraya’s fierce lecturing and Kaveh’s sheepish, half-hearted protests floating through the marble halls behind her.

Siblings. Best to let them duke it out, she’d learned, partially from Idri and Noor’s advice but mostly out of self-preservation.

Sayali whuffed a greeting when she entered their rooms, curled comfortably on the enormous cushion Sonia had sewn for her a day after the battle, the Weaver needing a stress outlet after hours of life-or-death stakes.

Which meant Sayali now had her bed, and Naomi and Vahid would soon have new outfits in the works for the city wide celebration later tonight, one to honor the victors of the battle and those they’d lost. Nova Solis needed a break from the destruction and rebuilding, and according to Esteri a party was the best way to do it. A unifying celebration, for the dragons and their allies, for those who’d put their lives on the line to save a city in the sky.

Vahid glanced up at her arrival, face splitting into the same mile-wide grin that he’d worn every time he looked at her since Kaveh regained consciousness, as though he was too proud of her to contain himself. It was heady, the sheer intensity of his adoration, and the careful attention he devoted to kissing her.

Naomi found herself a bit breathless when he released her. He seemed very smug about it, tracing her bottom lip with a thumb and watching her with heated eyes.

“We should get ready,” she murmured against his mouth, shivering at the heat radiating off of him.

“Hmm. Yes, we should. Bath?” He asked, backing her slowly towards the bathing pool as his eyes cut to her with promises lurking within, watching her with starving eyes.

“Sonia will kill us if we’re late.” She bit down on a smile and slid her hands beneath the material of his shirt to seek out the warm skin underneath, pressing her palms into his firm waist and opening her mouth to the gentle brush of his tongue against hers.

They shed clothes with practiced ease, grinning into each others’ mouths when arms got tangled or one of them tripped, steadying each other until they were both standing waist-deep in the bathing pool and pressed skin-to-skin.

Vahid backed her slowly towards the bench carved into the far side of the pool, letting his free hand glide across the smooth surface of the pool. Naomi felt a flash of heat before the water began to bubble, warmed perfectly to her standards and still a hundred degrees below Vahid’s own preference.

He dragged fingertips along the curve of her hip, her waist, to finally cup her breast and slide a thumb across her nipple. She gasped into his mouth when he did it again, this time with a simultaneous scrape of teeth across her bottom lip.

Water sloshed as they moved, swirling around their hips and smelling like the flowery oil they’d used last time. Her knees bumped the edge of the bench, hard stone biting into the crease of her legs. She braced against it, upper body swaying when Vahid pressed forward, entirely unsuspecting as she twisted in place shoved him onto it instead.

He sat with a startled huff of air, blinking up at her in surprise as she grinned and straddled him. The water reached his chest, lapping at the warm gold-brown skin beneath his collarbones, the tips of his black hair wet and clinging to his shoulders.

Strong fingers sank into the backs of her thighs to pull her close, rubbing against the hard length of him. She took over, rocking her hips slow and steady until he was panting into her mouth, fingers probably leaving bruises on her thighs that she’d be delighted to find later.

For now though, she devoted her attention to slowly driving Vahid out of his mind. Quick, light touches that made him shiver, fingernails catching on his nipples, tracing along his abdomen, the dark trail of hair low on his belly. She had to clamp her knees around his hips when he bucked into the hand that wrapped around his cock, stroking him even as she kissed him breathless, losing herself to the dizzying heat and wet slide of their mouths.

He released one thigh to rub gently at the bundle of nerves between her legs, quicksilver eyes flashing at her stuttered moan. Their choked off sounds, little gasps and moans echoed off the water and marble surfaces around them.

Only when the heat spiked again, Vahid dazed and breathing hard, did she lower herself onto him, swiveling her hips and digging her nails into the muscle of his shoulders at the welcome stretch of his cock inside her.

She took him all the way, watching him through lidded eyes when he was finally buried to the hilt in her. Sweat and water ran in rivulets down their slick skin even as they both sat frozen in place, the place where they were joined burning hotter than the near-scalding warmth of the bathing pool.

A shimmer of black scales rippled over Vahid’s skin when she moved, a slow arch of her hips, biting her lip at the feel of the head of his cock dragging along her walls.

Vahid dropped his head back against the edge of the pool with a low groan, hands tight on her hips now and tugging her back down onto him with the same achingly slow pace. He braced his feet against the slippery floor and met her next slow thrust with one of his own. She cupped a hand around his neck to hold him still as she leaned in to kiss him again, riding him slow and deep and hot, and, wow, okay, sustained eye-contact with the man buried to the hilt inside her made her want to pin him down and ride him until they were limp and sated.

Conveniently, Vahid offered no objections.

~*~

“Sonia, this is… You didn’t have to do this,” Naomi breathed, unable to tear her eyes away from the mirror in her and Vahid’s rooms.

“It’s my job.” Sonia rolled her eyes and swatted Naomi’s hands aside so she could make a quick adjustment. Naomi felt the warm, comforting wash of Sonia’s magic brush against her as she worked. “Besides, I’m a Weaver. If I don’t create, I die. Not even near-war could stop my kind.”

Naomi could only stare. The dress fit her like a glove, tight to every curve and black as night. Glittering black scales overlaid the crimson silk, similar to the last stunning dress Sonia had made for her- but this one wasn’t created with Vahid in mind.

No, this was a dress for the Arbiter and her symbol, designed so that the dress left her back totally bare to reveal the gold and crimson tattoo inked from neck to the base of her spine, wings stretched wide and beak open in a soundless cry.

The dress followed the tight curve of her hips, only to transition from scales to ink-black feathers woven into a mermaid-style skirt. But the black burned out at mid-thigh, replaced by fire-engine red feathers that bled into spectacular oranges and yellows so that the dress seemed to have a feathery tail of fire streaming behind her.

Naomi looked in the mirror, gliding a hand along the impenetrable scales fused to the material. Sonia’s magic was so powerful that Naomi’s vision blurred with every blink, so that she saw a phoenix risen from the ashes staring back at her. A creature of magic. A symbol of hope.

She smiled.

“That’s the reaction I was hoping for,” Sonia said dryly, helping her into a pair of black slippers.

“I was a little overwhelmed,” Naomi admitted. The scales made a soft clinking noise when she skimmed her nails along them before they faded into downy soft feathers. “I don’t-”

“Do you feel as beautiful as you look?” Sonia asked, impatient.

Naomi made a helpless gesture with her hands. “Yes.”

“Then I’ve done my job well.” She adjusted the halter top of the dress, not meeting Naomi’s eyes when she said, “You saved Nova Solis, and you saved Kailua. Using my gift to make you beautiful things is the very least I can do, Lady Spark.”

Naomi had to blink through the mist in her eyes before replying. “I’m honored, Master Weaver.”

Sonia cleared her throat, gave Naomi a sharp nod, and stomped away to bully Vahid out of the bathtub.

Naomi paid their bickering no attention, hearing the new but growing undercurrent of affection beneath their sharp words and muttered complaints. She focused instead on her makeup, dipping a tiny bristled brush into golden dye and tracing a winged line across her eyelids with a steady hand, leaning close to the enormous mirror Sonia’d dragged into their bathrooms for their frequent fittings.

The gold shimmered against her dark skin, drawing attention to the heavy fall of darkened lashes, the black lipstick covering her mouth that made a fierce pairing with the obsidian dress. She wore a thick braid across her head, a golden headdress woven carefully into it, and twisted the rest into a low bun so that her tattoo was not concealed.

Naomi took a step back to take in the final effect, breath catching at the figure she struck in the mirror. She’d never felt so beautiful, had never worn her strength and magic so comfortably and with such confidence.

She startled when Vahid appeared in the doorway, wearing only a towel and looking over his shoulder to respond to Sonia. He turned, exasperated fondness on his face, and froze at the sight of Naomi across the room. She didn’t move, watching him watch her through the mirror and feeling his attention burn along her spine as he followed the glimmering scales down to the very last feather.

She swallowed the sudden, bizarre surge of nerves at his stunned expression, the way he didn’t appear to be breathing anymore, and slid a hand down her belly. His eyes followed it, helplessly, before he jerked his gaze back to her face.

“Naomi,” he breathed. “You look…”

“Like a phoenix?” She asked, gesturing to the tail of fire with a quirk of her mouth.

“You are the most stunning thing I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he said, stepping closer and looking at her with so much wonder it made her throat grow tight. Warm fingertips touched the tattoo at her neck, tracing its path down her spine with aching slowness. She felt it flex with his reverent touch, struggled and failed to control her breathing in response to the heat of his gaze meeting hers in the mirror. “I don’t have the words, my love.”

“You two are adorable.” Sonia’s dry voice snapped them out of the moment. “But the party is starting soon, and your dragon isn’t even dressed.”

“I’m sure you can understand the reason for my distraction,” Vahid said, dropping a kiss to Naomi’s shoulder before backing away with obvious reluctance.

“I’ve raised three sons, two daughters, and more grandchildren than I can count,” Sonia said conversationally, directing him to his clothes. “Yet somehow you dragons are more work than all of them combined.”

She watched Vahid dress, appreciating the sensual slide of a red undershirt against his skin, then the thin black jacket that he dragged over it, the form-fitting black pants with thin veins of red, orange, and yellow barely visible within but there all the same.

Most interesting, though, was the sweep of golden wings woven into the fabric of his jacket. The tips were dipped in the same blood-red as his shirt, stark against the muscled plane of his back. They arched like dragon wings rather than avian, subtle and nearly unnoticeable until he moved and they seemed to move with him. Sonia’s magic, surely, considering it gave Naomi that same dizziness to watch Vahid move.

“A matched set,” Sonia said once Vahid had submitted to his own makeup and braided hair, looking them over with obvious satisfaction. “Damn, I’m good.”

“Your skills are unparalleled, Master Weaver,” Vahid said seriously, tracing his fingers along the curve of Naomi’s waist as though unable to help it. The scales clinked gently together as his nails caught their hard surface, and Naomi gasped when the scales warmed at his touch, glowing a faint red like a smoldering ember before fading to black again. Vahid grinned at her, Sonia rolling her eyes and muttering about showoffs behind him.

“Sometime today, if you please,” Sonia said when he did it again. “It would be terrible rude if the guests of honor are late to their own party.”

Naomi looped her arm through Sonia’s, the sleek black lines of her own dress a stark contrast to Sonia’s colorful Nakano ceremonial robes and beads.

Vahid flanked her so they could walk the Master Weaver to the celebration together, reminding her, “It is not _our_ party.”

“The royal family’s lost brother returned to them in the midst of their darkest days,” she countered, frowning at Sayali when she nipped playfully at the Ocak swooping past. “And your mysterious, radiant lady stopped the destruction of Nova Solis single-handedly.”

“It wasn’t-” Naomi protested, only to be cut off when Sonia waved a hand dismissively.

“Eh, close enough. Your little light show changed our city forever.” Sonia shook her head, beads in her hair clicking softly together. “You will learn, Lady Spark. We do not forget.”

They slowed at a voice from just ahead. “We do not.”

Naomi and Vahid shared a look over Sonia’s head. Consul Faraco waited just outside the heavy, gilded doors to the enormous ballroom, hands clasped in front of him and looking for all the world like he’d just swallowed a lemon.

His tunic was a rich, expensive fabric, paired with a long cloak with an ornate pattern of overlaid scales that clung to his shoulders and swept gracefully to the floor. The Consul bore a violent scar along his neck, leftover from his fight during the invasion. Naomi tried not to let the angry red marks distract her from his stilted words.

She realized halfway through the dragon shifter’s long-winded speech that he was trying to make nice white carefully avoiding any indication of an apology. She let him fumble through it, she and Vahid wordlessly agreeing not to appear swayed one way or the other. It wouldn’t do for Faraco to think they were friendly.

“Some apology,” Naomi muttered when he finally nodded stiffly to them and stalked away. He’d spent most of the time berating Radia and Tahj for their arrogance. She got the feeling he was more offended that they plotted without the council’s approval than the fact that they’d tried to kill the royals.

Sonia watched Faraco go, studying him with an intensity that reminded Naomi of the Weaver’s golden-eyed shifter grandson. “He thinks apologies are beneath him. But after the display of your power, he has decided that remaining respectful is the wisest path.”

Vahid’s teeth were bright against his skin. “Good,” he said, satisfied.

Sonia left them just inside the door and was quickly enveloped by a group of Nakano, all wearing the fine, bright clothes for their most important ceremonies.

Naomi rested her hand in Vahid’s elbow and let him lead them through the throng of people, smiling to see humans and shifters and mages come together. The mood was light and cheerful, bolstered by the airy music that filled the gaps in conversation and laughter.

The room itself was enormous. Towering arches lined the exterior of the room, framing the colossal dome in the center. Moonlight casted down from overhead through the sheer mottled dragonglass worked into the dome’s gentle slope. The walls, she discovered, were painted with a familiar glowing dye mixture that lit the room with colorful spears of light from the glass.

Naomi smiled to see the crowd part and reveal Linnea with a small huddle of the pirate captains who’d turned against the Coalition, despite being vastly outnumbered. They all wore formal attire that Naomi was privately surprised to see, given that most of them preferred to swing around their ships in loose shirts and tight pants.

They still had the tight pants, though most seemed to be made of a silky material that clung attractively to muscled legs. The mercurial lights reflected off of polished leather boots and remarkably ornate sword sheaths belted at their waists. Their embroidered jackets looked as smooth as velvet and fitted tightly to their bodies, dyed in a diverse range of colors.

Linnea’s, to her amusement, was dyed a deep, midnight blue that paired beautifully with Nailah’s turquoise and Casimir’s royal blue coats. She glanced over her shoulder as though she’d heard Naomi’s thoughts, eyes crinkling in a welcoming smile.

“The Firebird herself,” she said. Linnea gave her a slow once-over, whistling at the quiet glow from the feathers and scales adorning her dress. “Sonia outdid herself.”

“You wear such a masterpiece well,” Casimir said smoothly, bowing low and catching her hand to press a kiss to the back of it.

“Charmer,” Naomi accused, prompting a laugh from Nailah.

“He can’t help himself,” Nailah said, side-eyeing Cas when he simply grinned at her and slid a hand around her waist. She shook her locs away from her face and let Cas lean on her.

Naomi studied the cheerful light in Linnea’s slate grey eyes, pleased that the captain had lost the cornered cat look from their quest to save Darius. She wondered if finally beating Arielle Harada had lifted the weight from her shoulders, enough to breathe freely again.

“I hear you three are managing the new trade routes.”

Linnea shrugged. “Some of the other captains are worried about backlash from what’s left of the Coalition.”

“Apparently they felt more secure with us at the helm,” Nailah said smugly. “We’re going to reopen the routes the Coalition had overtaken for themselves, and no one expects that to be smooth sailing.”

“Do you expect more fighting?” Vahid asked.

“From some,” Cas told them, appearing unconcerned.

“Some?” Naomi asked, wondering about a certain captain. Linnea’s quest for vengeance was for herself, in service to no one, no noble good. Which meant she tended to lose that cunning cool to the sharp bite of betrayal, and risk herself unnecessarily.

Linnea rubbed her thumb along the condensation on her glass of wine, eyes tracing the motion. “Harada’s still in the wind. She’s never gone quietly a day in her life, so…” She shrugged.

“Don’t worry,” Cas said, correctly interpreting Naomi’s worried expression. “We’re sticking close to keep an eye on her.”

Nailah nodded. “It’ll take us both,” she said ruefully. Linnea looked up to scowl at them.

“Don’t look so angry, love,” Cas chided, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheekbone. Linnea flushed but kept the scowl.

“Yeah, it’ll be just like old times,” Nailah chimed in, tugging pointedly at Linnea’s belt with a seductive slant of her eyes. “Only this time you aren’t getting away from us so easily.”

Linnea cleared her throat, uncharacteristically thrown off guard. Naomi had to hide a smile and then a laugh when Ailani joined them and asked Linnea what was wrong with her face.

The Nakano second in command wore a green and gold floor length jumpsuit that fit her like a glove. It had a design of strategic cutouts in places that would normally be covered by her armor, but were instead lined with delicate golden embroidery that drew the eye to the scarred skin beneath, marks of a warrior worn with pride. Some were fresh wounds, but most had long healed into streaks of white over tanned skin.

A glimmering emerald cloak clasped around her throat, thin and sheer and utterly feminine. Ailani looked as soft as Naomi had ever seen her, with her fire-red hair loose around her shoulders and no obvious weapon in sight, other than the subtle outline of a thigh sheath resting close to one of the cutouts.

Though she wore sensible flats, Ailani towered over their group. She jerked her chin at the cluster of people around Darius and Chief Kanoa, a pleased light in her green eyes.

“Nakano relations with the dragons are improving every day. I only hope that the Prime keeps his word.”

“The dragons are prepared to help your clan, should the Sokolov target the Nakano again,” Vahid promised. “You fought for our people when war came to us. That is a gesture the royal family will not soon forget.”

Ailani nodded once, sharp and assured. “And you, Arbiter?”

“I would be happy to be of assistance,” Naomi said honestly. The Sokolov practiced dark magic, and they’d been killing unchecked for a long while. It would not be a habit they’d be eager to break, she knew, and that kind of power always fed on innocents.

Cas cleared his throat. “Excuse us, ladies. We set sail early in the morning, so I plan to party until I drop tonight.” He grinned at them, caught a protesting Linnea before she could squirm out of reach, and dragged her and Nailah into the small cluster of dancers in the center of the room.

Rahim and Noor, Naomi saw, were slow-dancing apart from the others, pressed closely together and swaying gently. They were a stark contrast to the dramatic dance that Esteri and High Mage Ziadie were performing nearby, laughing quietly together while other Mages watched them with judgement.

She knew from Sonia that the shifters had declined the invitation after a spectacular blow up between Noor and Alpha Atreya. Rahim had been distressed and Noor smug at the end, so Naomi assumed Noor had won the argument.

At her side, Ailani brightened at the sight of a short woman with spectacular biceps. “A weapons master from Mahasi,” she explained. “One I’ve been hoping to meet. Wish me luck.” To Naomi’s astonishment, the normally stoic warrior winked at them, smoothed down her outfit so that the cutouts showed the muscle underneath, and vanished after the woman.

“New friends at every turn,” Vahid said with amusement.

“Still wanting to leave, then?” Soraya asked from behind them, the crowd parting hastily before the dragon general. She wore a strapless dress that flowed to the floor, one long leg exposed by the slit running to the very top of her thigh. The dress itself was breathtaking, mottled orange and red and charcoal appearing to burn like a gown made of magma, as though she were a walking volcano whose lava flowed sinuously against her skin.

“We aren’t leaving,” Naomi said with exasperation, rehashing the same argument they’d been having for days now. “Just a quick return home.”

Vahid had agreed to take Naomi back through the portal after Nova Solis had settled. She wasn’t returning to her home world- had decided, after many sleepless nights of consideration, that she wanted to stay and explore this dragon realm, unable to leave her new friends behind forever.

But she hoped to encourage her parents to come back through with her this time, to meet the royals and bond with Linnea and experience endless adventures at Naomi’s side.

And she _really_ wanted to check on Darcy and Stiles, to make sure the sparks she’d left behind had found their way. Faith told her that they had, but she would always worry over those she loved.

Besides, Jane Foster needed to know that she had a brother- a powerful and clever brother who wanted to return home. Avis was dangerous, as all Fae were, and Jane would have to make a decision about his return to her own realm.

“As long as my parents are still welcome,” Naomi said, a little anxious that she’d changed her mind.

Soraya flicked her fingers. “They can have an entire wing of the palace if you wish, so long as you return to us.”

“What Soraya means is,” Idri said, smiling gently as she appeared at her side, “that we are certain to miss you deeply while you are gone, and will be anxiously awaiting the return of our friends.”

“She got it,” Soraya muttered, looking away as though embarrassed. Naomi ducked her head to hide a smile, a pleased glow in her chest at Soraya’s awkward display of friendliness. She looked forward to exploring that tentative friendship upon their return.

“We won’t leave for a few days,” Naomi reassured them. “Not until we’re sure everything is stable.”

“Then we will enjoy the time we have,” Idri said, tucking her arm into Soraya’s. “And watch eagerly for your return.”

“I have things to send with you,” Soraya reminded them. “For Nia.”

“The Keeper of Al-Riyadmi will certainly appreciate your gifts,” Vahid said honestly. “So she knows her sacrifice is not forgotten, even after all this time.”

“You can work out details later,” Idri laughed, tugging on Soraya. “Tonight is for celebrating.”

Soraya refocused her attention on the High Sage. “Is that a hint that you’d like to dance?” She asked, curling her fingers into Idri’s with a fond smile.

“Now she gets it,” Idri said, grinning widely when Soraya nodded in goodbye and whirled her onto the dance floor.

“Shall we join them?” Vahid asked, holding out a hand and watching her with soft silver eyes.

Naomi studied the beautiful lines of his face, the cascade of silky hair, the love for her etched into every line of his body. Behind him, the family he adored that had welcomed her gathered to laugh and dance and celebrate being alive.

She watched the dancers and the gowns, the stunning people and companionship forged in times of strife and solidified by the compassion they shared.

They had time to live and love each other, to find new adventures and friends, to rebuild their new home side by side with their family. It felt like every one of her childhood fantasies come to life, only better than she could have ever imagined.

Her heart full, smile soft, Naomi let Vahid spin her around and into the wonder that was their new life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Naomi's part is done!! Again, HUGE thank you to fanaticreader16 for beta-ing this part.. you helped so much with the worldbuilding details and occasionally the stupidly obvious things I overlooked lol and I will forever appreciate your help! <3
> 
> The final chapter will be up asap! I'll try to get it finished within the week. Thanks for reading :)


	30. Darcy: Sentinels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear god this turned into a giant! I can't believe it's already finished... I remember looking at the series only a couple months ago and thinking "hmm, let's tie up some loose ends" and 170k+ words later we're here lol

**15: SENTINELS**

_**Darcy** _

Darcy kind of wished she had considered her actions at the nemeton for longer than half a second. She’d still make the same choice, of course, but at least she would have been a little more prepared for intense negotiations with government agencies all over the world.

Miraculously, the human world had not entirely caught on to the supernaturals living under their noses- other than those who’d witnessed a werewolf’s full shift or a spark seeping golden magic from every pore.

Those cases were handled individually until a full statement could be made. Until _Darcy_ came up with a full statement. Just the thought of that looming responsibility made her ill.

But she could set that aside for the moment. Could focus instead on reaching out to the new sparks, letting them know they were not alone. Many of them poured into New York to seek Darcy and Stiles and others like them. Others remained in their home countries, contacted instead via a secure online channel set up and managed by Tony and Danny.

Hard to manage when there were a couple hundred new sparks scattered across the globe, but it was a project that Darcy and her family had thrown themselves into with excitement. Hales traveled the world, teaching werewolves how to manage their full shift and keeping an eye on those who still couldn’t manage it- those who, if Isela’s theory was correct, had corrupt motivations for wanting the full shift. But change was possible, the way forward always open to them should they decide to take it.

The packs tied to a nemeton seemed to manage the full shift easier than the rogue ‘wolves, and between Darcy and Stiles traveling around to anchor new nemetons or stabilize established ones, they could help clear the way.

Laura’s own project and network of connections had exploded. She had support from all over the world, Alphas and magic users providing input and suggestions on how to ensure the transition to living openly was safe and smooth for everyone. Thousands of supernaturals had jobs in the human government or as lawyers, people who were perfectly placed to pave the way. People who could ensure that supernaturals did not slip through the cracks, or weren’t “disappeared” by curious agencies looking to take advantage of those with superior strength and senses.

Those who wished to reveal their lineage would soon be free to do so, and many of those supernaturals were already selectively placed. Shifters who were firefighters or construction workers, capable of lifting hundreds of pounds without effort. Druids who managed gardens or national parks, who worked as nurses and doctors and researchers. Witches who would create minor spells and potions to sell to humans, healing acne scars or speeding up wound care.

And those who wished to remain in hiding would be able to while still having the protection of their community. Hunters had been ordered to fall in line and accept their orders from the heads of families who rose after the deaths of Gerard Argent and the McAllisters. They would hunt those who had lost themselves, or the number of monsters who preyed on unsuspecting humans, or they would face the wrath of Allison Argent. The threat of new sparks would hold them accountable, too, so there were no more innocents killed for sport.

Vampire rulers collaborated with Julian to establish their own system to handle their affairs, hoping to keep the darkest of supernatural beings out of the spotlight for as long as possible- and _especially_ out of human hands.

Lydia and Jane had both opened their realms to all with Fae lineage, provided they accept dual citizenship so all Fae affairs would fall under the Queens’ purview. As for the realm itself… that would be revealed another time, after the human world was stable enough to handle the realization.

The supernatural world was finding its feet, helping each other without expectation as they prepared for their worlds to change forever- and trusting the Sentinels who would devote their lives to protecting them.

~*~

Darcy made a quiet sound of victory as she opened a package marked with _Steven Rogers_ in neat calligraphy as the return address. Across their newly repaired kitchen, Bucky turned to raise a brow at her in question.

Uh oh. Not quiet enough, apparently.

She gave him a winning smile and subtly tucked the small notebook between her jacket and shirt.

“What is that?” He asked warily.

“Nothing,” she said, innocent.

He studied her for a moment, then decided, “I don’t believe you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she told him, inching towards the bedroom. She flicked her eyes over to the door, judging the distance.

Bucky, scenting blood and knowing by now that these things rarely turned out well for him, abandoned his task to step closer. She matched his step forward with one step back, keeping a careful distance.

He took one look at the discarded wrapping and the first signs of concern showed in his wary blue eyes. “What did Steve send you?” He asked, scowling when she skipped back, away from his advances.

Now thoroughly suspicious, Bucky warned, “Darcy.”

She bit back the grin that tried to spread across her face. “What? I said it was nothing!”

“And Steve swore he’d get me back for… the thing I promised not to talk about,” he hastily amended when she perked up, interested in whatever embarrassing thing he’d inflicted on Steve a couple days ago. “Give it.”

She sucked air in between her teeth and gave him an apologetic look. “So sorry, babe, but _I_ promised Steve this wouldn’t fall into your hands. It was part of the deal.”

Because Bucky would take one look at all the embarrassing moments in his life sketched out in loving detail by Steve, sent to Darcy for prime blackmail material because he was a little shit and knew how to hit where it would hurt most, and destroy the notebook with extreme prejudice.

“What deal?” Bucky demanded, eyes narrowing. He paused when she danced far out of reach, holding the notebook behind her back as the grin finally broke free.

Darcy bobbed on her toes, caught in a staring contest as he visibly contemplated how destructive he was willing to be to take the notebook from her. If he broke her granite countertop, she was going to kick his ass.

The Winter Soldier was far too well trained to give away any sign of attack, so Darcy had to quickly scramble out of reach when he suddenly lunged for her. She laughed as he swore at the near miss, darting quickly behind the couch.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” she said smugly. “I was raised by wolves, you know.”

He considered her. “Well, I’m the Winter Solider,” he said reasonably. “Surely that’s a fair fight.”

“In your dreams, maybe,” she teased.

He came after her. She squeaked and jumped over the back of the couch, tossing a few pillows and blankets at him as he spun to follow her without destroying the coffee table.

“Wow,” she said once she’d made it to safety, flipping through the book while he untangled himself from the blanket she’d thrown over his head on her way past him. “Did you really fall headfirst into the Hudson when you were…” she squinted at the tiny note in the corner and laughed. “Seventeen?”

Bucky’s curses stopped abruptly. He yanked himself free of the blanket and stared at her in horror. “What’s in that? What’s in the notebook? Darcy!”

She giggled at the next drawing, complete with a sketch of a mortified Bucky in his WWII uniform. “Your pants tore open in the middle of a firefight?”

“It was after the serum, I started gaining muscle faster than I realized and- you know what, no, I’m not talking about this,” he decided. “Give it.”

“Hm, no,” she said absently, fishing a marker out of a drawer.

“What is that? What are you doing?” He glowered. “Stop that! Stop it right now!”

“Too late!” She sing-songed, then yelped when he darted towards her.

They chased each other around the apartment, teasing and playful, one of those lighthearted games that always made him brighten even as he muttered under his breath about cheaters when she teleported back into the kitchen to escape.

They watched each other from opposite sides of the kitchen island, flushed and breathing hard. She feinted to one side, grinning when he mirrored her easily.

She teased him for a few other sketches of the numerous embarrassing moments in his life that Steve had witnessed, enjoying the blush on his cheeks and the pained expression on his face at her obvious delight, before he finally planted a hand on the island and vaulted over it to catch her before she could run.

Her laughter rang through the apartment as he wrestled her to the ground and tried to pry the notebook out of her hands. Except she had drawn a few runes on the cover, and Bucky suddenly discovered that he couldn’t touch it.

“Let it go,” he said, glaring down at her.

Darcy smiled up at him, hair fanning out beneath her, comfortably trapped beneath his warmth. “No.”

“I’m going to kill Steve,” he said decisively.

“Hey, you’ve seen or heard about a _lot_ of my embarrassing moments. This is only fair,” she insisted.

He rolled his eyes and dropped his full weight on her. She squawked and flailed as best she could, choking back the laugh rising in her throat. “Get off me, loser.”

“Give me the notebook,” he suggested. “Fair trade.”

“How is that a fair trade?” She wondered, letting her hands wander. He hissed against her throat when she dragged her nails up his back.

“Of course,” she said thoughtfully, “you could always try to bribe me. I’m susceptible to a certain kind of bribes, from a specific person.”

She wriggled pointedly underneath him in case he hadn’t caught on. He lifted his head to stare balefully at her.

“Maybe I’m not in the mood, after having all my dirty laundry aired by my backstabbing best friend and then the love of my life laughing at me about it.”

She snorted. “You’re so melodramatic.”

“Betrayal,” he said grumpily. “Of the worst kind.” He tried to grab the notebook again and scowled fiercely when his hand was deflected by the wards.

“You survive,” she said with some sympathy, patting him on the shoulder. “Now get up, you’re crushing my spleen and I have to get ready for a party.”

He sighed heavily, but rolled to his feet and pulled her with him. Darcy set the notebook on the counter and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, delighted with his sulking expression.

She left him glaring at the notebook, stripping her clothes off and heading for the shower. A quiet click caught her attention from the other room, and she struggled to hold back the laugh.

“The wards are fireproof,” she called, and heard only soft swearing in response. Shaking her head, Darcy tied her hair up to keep it dry and jumped in the shower, washing quickly.

Bucky had relocated to the bed, sprawled across it to stare at the ceiling as she wandered into the closet and dropped her towel in favor of the mismatched underwear and bra.

Darcy frowned as she sorted through her clothes. What exactly did one wear to a Fae Wild Hunt celebration? Definitely shoes she could run away in, she thought wryly.

Jane had postponed the party when Darcy and Stiles had left New York to search for the druids, because evidently she wanted Darcy at the celebration and wouldn’t give her an excuse to miss it. A shame, she thought, considering she didn’t want to be standing within reach when the creatures that haunted her nightmares were let off their leash.

She walked from the closet to the bed and back again, laying out a few options to wear as she considered the Fae Queens’ offer to help track down any remaining druids assassins. Darcy didn’t think there were many others, but the world was big and had far too many hiding places to be sure. Magic eaters were one surefire way to ensure they were found, and quickly.

Darcy and Stiles had left the rest of the DHO behind; they had no power. Not anymore. They were out-powered and outnumbered now, without any nemetons within their grasp. Besides that, the shifter packs now knew to take a closer look at their emissaries’ true motives.

For the first time in a long time, she had hope for the future of supernaturals across the world. It was a heady feeling, no longer being alone.

Bucky watched with interest as she wandered around the room, still only dressed in her underwear, trying to decide how many weapons would be too many weapons, as well as which outfit could subtly hold the most.

Jane would probably be unhappy if she showed up dressed for war, Darcy reminded herself when her first instinct was to reach for the battered leather jacket and her hidden dagger sheaths.

Stumped, Darcy crossed her arms and stared at the options. “What’s the dress code for this?” She demanded. “I can’t believe Jane didn’t give me more information.”

“She had a dress made for you,” Bucky answered, closer than she’d expected. She turned to face him, only to let out a startled yelp when he snatched her around the waist and yanked her onto the bed. Sprawled on top of him, Darcy huffed at his victorious grin and tried to wriggle free.

“You are hindering the process,” she said with faux sternness, propping herself up on his chest and being sure to dig her elbows in until he winced. “I have to get ready. Jane will never forgive me if I’m late.”

“Jane told you the wrong time so the dress could be dropped off,” he said, unconcerned.

Darcy sputtered. “You- you’ve been plotting with her? When did this happen? Why was I not informed?”

He rolled his eyes at her, hands skimming up the sides of her waist and making her shiver. “It was supposed to be a surprise. You’re welcome,” he said dryly.

As if on cue, the front door to the apartment opened and Allison called out. “Darcy? I have your dress.”

“In the bedroom!” Darcy hollered back, trying and failing to squirm free of Bucky’s grip. She threatened him under her breath, squawking when he just pinched the ticklish skin on her waist in response.

“…Doing what?” Allison asked doubtfully.

“Nothing! Oh, for- would you let go of me?”

“You know what, I don’t want to know,” Allison decided. “Be ready in an hour, Darce, and meet at the gate on the roof.” The door closed behind her.

“You are _impossible,”_ Darcy said to Bucky, kneeing him in the gut. He barely reacted to the blow, eyes sparkling playfully, but he did let her go.

The dress had been left on the counter, wrapped in a soft, silky material that dissolved into flowers when Darcy touched it. Charmed, she set them aside to lift the dress with careful hands, awed by the gauzy material that fell to her feet.

Dyed the same gold as her magic, the gown had a full skirt decorated with splashes of glittery fabric that looked like her spark woven into a collection of stars. Its neckline would rest along her collarbones, and the full sleeves were made of the same transparent, gauzy fabric, bunching artfully at the wrist band. The upper half of the dress had the sparkling fabric that fanned out from the waistband that separated it from the skirt.

“The dress code for Jane’s people is themed,” Bucky said from behind her. “Everyone has something designed to reflect their friendship with the Unseelie Queen.”

Darcy looked over her shoulder to find him in deep blue suede slacks and a matching jacket. His shirt was mostly covered by a formal waistcoat that matched her dress and emphasized his shoulder to waist ratio in a way that made her mouth go dry.

He crooked a smile at her. “My job was to keep you distracted until everything was ready.”

“You did a good job,” she said breathlessly, scanning him from head to toe for the third time.

Bucky laughed. “Focus, doll. We really do have to get moving. Jane’s threatened my life if I distract you too well.”

He helped her into the dress, amused by her enthusiasm for the matching thigh sheaths he’d apparently found for her to tuck a couple iron daggers into for the trip.

“I love you,” she said reverently, hiking the skirt up to strap them on. They’d be a bitch to get out in a tight spot, but she knew Bucky had at least three iron weapons within easy reach and could cover her until she retrieved her own if necessary.

Which would _not_ be necessary, she reminded herself as they hiked to the roof and found Allison and Cora waiting at the new Fae gate that Jane had opened once the building had been repaired. It made sense, she’d argued, so that if they were ever attacked again, people could escape quickly and reinforcements could be sent through in seconds.

So now there was a small rock archway on the rooftop, surrounded by wild, lush plants that covered every inch of the space. A pile of stones marked the edge of the Fae gate, stacked outside the warded line that kept people out so no one was accidentally transported to a parallel dimension. No one could cross the warded line unless they picked up one of the stones, which were decorated with runes to allow passage for its beholder.

Allison and Cora both wore tailored suits that aligned more with Lydia’s sharp, elegant fashion preferences than Jane’s dreamy gowns and soft fabrics.

Cora’s was a sleek white suit that fit her tall frame beautifully. “A gift from the Harbingers,” she explained at Darcy’s impressed look, speaking of Lydia’s Queens Guard in the Seelie realm. Cora spent a lot of time training with them, Darcy knew, and had met a couple Fae in the Guard who shared her aromantic asexual identity. It seemed her new friends appreciated her as much as Cora appreciated them, Darcy was pleased to see.

Allison’s suit was a deep burgundy with polished metallic accents that held the jacket together and served as gilded holsters for the hunter’s weapons. She fiddled with the delicate chains woven into her braid and greeted Darcy with a bright smile. “Ready?”

“I guess,” Darcy told her, clinging to Bucky’s hand when nerves fluttered in her stomach.

“We’ve got you,” Cora murmured from her other side.

Grateful for her little sister’s support, Darcy led Allison lead the way through the Fae gate and into the Unseelie realm. She gasped upon arrival, staring around with awe at the giant, sweeping trees that rained indigo petals down upon the mingled crowd. The air was soft and light, as though winter still clung to spring’s winds, scattering the impossibly soft flower petals across the blue tinted grass.

Magic-fueled lanterns lit the area, their white flames powerful enough to banish any shadow within their reach. And, most stunning of all, the night sky glittered fiercely overhead as though celebrating with the rest of the realm. A blue-black sky dressed with thousands of luminous stars all shining their brightest for the Queen who ruled beneath them.

A Queen who bore similar constellations across her skin, her hair flowing freely down her back like a supernova as she approached Darcy with a soft smile. Jane wore a midnight blue gown with shimmering silver stars strewn across it. Darcy was sure if she looked up to compare, the configurations would be the same as those above.

“Were you surprised about the dress?” Jane asked, flushed with excitement.

“I was,” Darcy admitted, letting Jane take her hands. “It’s beautiful, Jane. Thank you.” She looked over Jane’s shoulder, spotted Thor and Valkyrie towering over everyone else, the Hale pack scattered throughout the crowd, Avengers mingling with Asgardians and Fae alike. Their worlds colliding, and becoming better for it.

“I want you with me when the Wild Hunt rides again,” Jane said quietly. “I never would have made it here without you, and it’s important to me that you’re by my side.” Important that Jane knew Darcy trusted her, and that it was returned.

Bucky very subtly tapped his knuckles between her shoulder blades where Jane couldn’t see, and some of the tension faded from her body. Cora stayed close, too, and Darcy could see a number of her ‘wolves keeping pointedly within her direct eyesight.

Fiercely grateful for her family, Darcy let Jane lead her by the hand to where Thor and Valkyrie stood at the front of the crowd. A small ledge separated the crowd from the lethal, terrifying demons stalking impatiently below. Just the sight of them made Darcy’s heart pound in her ears. She counted nearly twenty of them, their claws leaving deep gouges in the earth that soon turned the area into ruin.

As though sensing her arrival, the Ak’ma turned as one to stare up at her with unblinking eyes.

Powerful haunches and lengthy, muscled legs gave them a long stride and longer reach. Their leathery hides rippled in her vision as their camouflage hunting instincts activated at the appearance of a spark, as though fading into the background could hide them from her sight so they could begin their hunt.

The Fae Demon Riders sat tall and proud on their demonic mounts. They moved as if they were part of the Ak’ma itself, unruffled by the monsters’ blinding speed and bloodcurdling snarls, separating squabbles between the Ak’ma with nothing more than a quiet word or touch.

The Ak’ma turned those lidless, fathomless eyes to the side with predatory instinct. Seconds later Darcy felt the warmth of another body at her side, pressed firmly against her.

Stiles made a face at the sight of the Ak’ma, glancing over at her to flash her a bright grin. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, too quiet for anyone but a shifter to hear, “I brought backup.”

She followed his pointed gaze to find Tony and Natasha with Derek, Laura leaning comfortably against her brother, who seemed resigned to acting as a fence post. Tony caught her eye and tapped the thick bands around his wrists with a wink- he’d brought the suit, then. She relaxed with a smile of thanks, aware her hand had long since grown clammy in Jane’s.

Jane squeezed it anyway before releasing Darcy and stepping forward to address the citizens of her realm and its visitors. Her voice faded to the background as Valkyrie replaced Jane; Darcy was comforted to see the giant sword strapped to her back.

“I’m glad you changed your mind,” she said neutrally.

“I am too,” Darcy said, honest. She looked up at the Asgardian warrior. “I never thanked you for showing me. I wouldn’t have gotten over myself if you hadn’t.”

Valkyrie shrugged. “We’ve all got our wounds. Some just have to be lanced to let the hurt out.” Darcy gave her sword a wary look, and Valkyrie’s mouth twitched.

“Metaphorically, of course,” she amended.

“Of course,” Darcy agreed, grinning up at Thor when he clapped a hand on her shoulder in greeting.

She refocused when the wind went sharp and fierce, rising with Jane’s words as she told the story of the First Hunt, described the joyful creation of the Hounds of the Hunt to find the way. The Ash and Blood Reign and the Queen that had corrupted those very Hounds.

The Fall of the Wild Hunt, when the Hounds no longer obeyed anyone but their twisted Queen. When the realm itself changed shape to reflect the evil that ruled it with hate and envy in her heart. A realm left without the magic of the Hunt- a realm that had withered and nearly died.

And then, the Fall of the Queens. The realm that healed under the rule of ones who came to love it, ones who embraced it all- the good, the bad, and the terrifying. Queens who could match the dangerous, untamable magics, who could guide and shape it into a safe haven for its people without smothering the world in an effort to control it.

The air changed once more, warming as though to match the anticipation from the realm as Jane continued to speak of her discovery of the origins of the Ak’ma, her realization that she could set this right. Her work with the demons, day in and day out until they accepted her as their leader. Trials for those brave Fae willing to face the Ak’ma head on, to win their respect and become the Demon Riders.

Their joint efforts to revive the ancient, prolific magic of the Wild Hunt. Their careful cultivation of the magic as it survived and finally thrived.

Jane wielded that magic now, and the Ak’ma froze in place, their entire focus on the Queen that held their freedom, their entire purpose for existence cupped lovingly between her palms. A tiny sapling swayed in her careful grip, roots clinging to her hands like an anxious child to its mother.

Jane Foster, genius astrophysicist, Unseelie Queen, and Darcy’s best friend in the universe, looked to Darcy. Stars glittered behind her eyes, lighting her from within at Darcy’s smile of encouragement.

She knelt, hands outstretched, to set the sapling in the ground. The air went abruptly still, a sudden silence descending upon the realm. Everyone watched the sapling’s roots stretch tentatively outward, gaining confidence with every inch won. The realm held its breath together, waiting, hoping… and felt a spark of joy when a chorus of pitched howls sang through the air as the magic came alive.

And the Hounds led the Wild Hunt once more.

~*~

“Are we sure now is the right time?” Darcy asked for the fifth time. The room- crowded full of her friends and family- watched her pace anxiously.

Laura, sprawled half in Santiago’s lap, sighed at her. “The answer is yes, just like it was three minutes ago.”

“You’re the one who set the date,” Erica reminded her, pulling her to a stop when she paced close to her and Boyd. Isabelle was with Noah, safely hidden upstairs from the riot of press in the adjoining room to the one Darcy stood in now.

She let Erica and Boyd tuck her between them. “Everyone’s here. Everyone’s ready,” Erica said softly. She nodded towards Maya and Sophia, who were talking quietly with Satomi Ito and Noshiko Yukimura, Kira’s mother who was also a thunder kitsune and a pillar in the supernatural community.

Rhodey and Pepper were bowed over a phone together while Steve and Sam bickered with Bucky and Cora, who’d dragged Maria Hill into the half-hearted argument as well. Allison and Lydia were in deep discussion with Jane, joined by Chris at Allison’s insistence.

The Hale Pack was scattered throughout the room. Andrew, her foster father, spoke animatedly with Isela Gonzalez. Julian smiled fondly at Darcy from over Natasha and Clint’s heads, Nate standing closer than a typical bodyguard. Derek looked like he was talking Stiles down from his own anxiety attack, one hand cupping his face so his thumb could brush adoringly over Stiles’s cheekbone.

Darcy looked over as Tony approached, Talia and Peter right behind him. Her heart thudded at the sight of them, so achingly grateful for the people she’d found that loved her as their own. Erica only released her so Peter could swoop in and snatch her up into a suffocating hug, somehow always knowing exactly what she needed.

“My brave girl,” he sighed into her hair. “I’m so very proud of you.”

“Don’t make me cry,” Darcy said wetly, muffled into his shoulder. “If you ruin my makeup Lydia will be furious.”

“Let’s not risk it,” Talia said, amused, as Peter reluctantly released her. Talia straightened Darcy’s clothing, tucking her hair behind one ear and completing her adjustments with a kiss to Darcy’s forehead. Her foster mother had taken Deaton’s betrayal personally, and Darcy was glad to see some of her guilt had vanished.

“You ready?” Tony asked, watching her with shrewd but affectionate eyes.

“Not really,” Darcy said, nervous all over again. She glanced up at the sound of the door opening- not the one that led to the awaiting press conference, thank god, but one at the back. Other supernaturals arriving, those who were willing to face the world as they told their truth. She spotted Imani and Malik, Imani’s hand wrapped firmly around Rowan’s, a familiar sight now that the witch had recovered fully from the assassination attempt.

Fae and druids, witches and shifters alike poured into the room with eager faces. Darcy’s heart squeezed as a couple of new sparks came into sight, waving excitedly at her and Stiles. Not alone, she reminded herself. The weight of the world was no longer only hers to bear.

“You’re ready,” Bucky said as he joined them, smiling at her expression.

She breathed a laugh. “I guess I am.” Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she took a brief moment to read the new message from a blocked number.

 _Go change the world,_ Nick Fury had written. _The fallout will be for all of us to handle._

 _To make sure the world keeps turning?_ She responded, pleased he’d bothered to message her.

_Something like that. Still think you’re alone?_

Darcy smiled. _Not anymore._

Tony led the way, stepping aside at the last minute to allow Darcy and Stiles to step up to the podium, much to the audience’s confusion. He’d called the press conference for her, had used his vast network to ensure this message would reach every corner of the earth.

They were flanked by Hales, the Avengers, the Itos, by shifters and magic users and a dozen other supernaturals who’d come to lend their support as they finally told the world who they really were.

The flickering tattoo of a flame, newly inked on the sparks who’d requested it, caught her eye. And suddenly her nerves faded away.

Darcy took a deep breath. Felt the world take one with her.

She looked straight into the closest camera, and told the gathered journalists and reporters, “My mother taught me a few important things in the short time we had together. I’d like to share those things with you all. But before I do that, I have a few important things of my own to share with the world. So I’ll start by telling you all a story…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had way too much to wrap up in Darcy’s part to include Naomi’s return (and do it justice), so that will have to happen if I ever write another part to this series! 
> 
> I'm also willing to take prompts for scenes you’d like to see between any of the characters at any time point in the Legacy or Demigod verse- you can send them to my tumblr @i-like-plan-m! (Don't leave them in the comments, I don't want to miss any!)
> 
> As for future projects… I have a couple wips in different fandoms- Star Wars: The Clone Wars (wherein the Jedi go underground instead of leading the war, leaving the clones to fight alone…or so they think) and The Untamed (which I just binged and holy hell I loved a lot) but we’ll see what happens ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ You guys know by now all my wips turn into 70k+ fics or worse lmao. 
> 
> That said, thank you all SO SO much for the kudos, comments, & support. You have NO idea how inspiring it is or what it means to me to receive, so thank you, ily all <3


End file.
